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< 


HARRY W. FRENCH'S BOOKS 


GEMS OF GENIUS. 

4to, illuminated covers, gilt, $2.00. 

“Fifty full-page illustrations, selected from the art-worhs of as many foreign 
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Ituskins!” — 2^ew York Mail. 

ART AND ARTISTS. 

A History of the Birth of Art in America, with Biographical Studies of many 
prominent American artists, and nearly one hundred Illustrations from their 
studios. Cloth, gilt, $3.00. 

“ A work that will grow in value every year, showing the most patient research 
and elaboration, skilfully executed and admirably worked up. An honor to the 
author, an honor to the publishers, an honor to the country.” — Mew York 
Evening Post. 

EGO, the Life Struggles of Lawrence Edmonds. 

16mo, cloth, $1.00. 

“Both an interesting and an exciting work; written with freedom, effective- 
ness, and power.” — Philadelphia Item. 

CASTLE FOAM, or the Pauper Prince. 

A story of real life, true love, and intrigue in the brilliant capital of Prussia. 
12mo. Price, $1.50. 

NUNA, THE BRAHMIN GIRL. 

16mo, cloth, $1.00. 

“ This book is beautifully written, and abounds in novel and dramatic inci- 
dents.” — St. Louis Globe Democrat. 

OUR BOYS IN INDIA. 

The Wanderings of Two Young Americans in Hindustan, with their Exciting 
Adventures on the Sacred Rivers and Wild Mountains. With 145 illustrations. 
Royal octavo, 7 x inches. Bound in emblematical covers of Oriental design, 
$1.75. Cloth, black and gold, $2.50. 

A new edition of the most popular of books of travel for young folks issued last 
season. While it has all the exciting interest of a romance, it is remarkably vivid 
in its pictures of manners and customs in the laud of the Hindu. The illustra- 
tions are many and excellent. 

OUR BOYS IN CHINA. 

The Adventures of Two Young Americans, wrecked in the China Sea on their 
return from India, with their strange wanderings through the Chinese Empire. 
ISS illustrations. Boards, ornamental covers in colors and gold, $1.75. Cloth, $2.50. 

After successfully starting the young heroes of his previous book, “ Our Boys 
in India,” on their homeward trip, the popular lecturer, extensive traveller, and 
remarkable story-teller has them wrecked in the China Sea, saved, and trans- 
ported across China, giving him an opjxrrtunity to spread for young folks an 
appetizing feast of good things in the Laud of Teas and Queues. 


LEE AND SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston 


THE ONLY OHE 


» 


nx . 

HAEKY W; FRENCH 



BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 


NEW YORK 
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 
1884 . 



COPTKIQHT, 

1884, 

Bt lee and SHEPARD. 


All rights reserved. 


THE ONLY ONE 


THE ONLY ONE. 




THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTER I. 

MOS CARLETON married. He married for 



beauty ; his wife married for wealth. It was 
an even exchange, and, as the two most interested 
saw very little of each other between ten in the morn- 
ing and ten at night, the little spice of something like 
love which was sprinkled in lasted them to the end. 
They received what they bargained for, and, sup- 
posing that they loved each other properly, they 
went through life together without so much as know- 
ing what love really was, and surely never missing it. 

Mr. Carleton began life as a banker, and rapidly 
accumulated a fortune. From the outset of his 
career he was marked as one of the few men of the 
world who are profoundly and mysteriously success- 
ful in everything. He had far too much on his hands 
to be what is tenderly termed a family man. He 
never attempted anything of the sort ; nothing of the 
kind was ever expected of him, and hence his wife 
was saved that very popular agony of fancying that 


8 


THE ONLY ONE. 


her husband’s love was cooling when business de- 
manded every thought. 

Carleton Cottage, their beautiful country seat, was 
one of the fairest in the land, and so near the great 
city that the busy proj)rietor was driven to his office 
behind a pair of fiery blacks in the morning, thus 
realizing his sum and substance of the luxury of 
wealth. 

The grounds about the cottage were extensive and 
full of nooks and corners, groves and gardens, walks 
and fountains, arbors and arches. There were statues 
here and there, antique and ancient statues, life-size, 
some of them, half hidden in the shrubbery or stand- 
ing out boldly like sentinels. It even suggested to 
one the famous villa parks of Italy. And there were 
no great iron dogs, or huge painted deer, to remind 
us that we were after all in the cruder Western world. 

The cottage itself was as beautiful as the grounds. 
It was low and large, but there were no legalized 
gables and stereotyped angles. There w^ere so many 
projections of all sorts and sizes that it was hard to 
say where the body of the house ended and where the 
wings began, or indeed if it were not all body, or 
perhaps all wings. 

In time two children came to Carleton Cottage ; a 
boy first, and four years later a girl. When the boy 
was six months old, the father and mother stood be- 
fore the altar and heard the name of Osirood be- 
stowed upon the little one. It was the first time that 
Amos Carleton had stood in the shadows of a church 
since his marriage. It was a fearfully oppressive in- 


THE ONLY ONE. 


9 


action. Even upon that former occasion he had said 
to the clergyman, ” Hurry through it, or we shall 
lose the train.” And now he gave him but one name 
to pronounce in order that he might have it so much 
the sooner over with. Then he hastened from the 
church to the city to keep an appointment, which he 
would not have missed for all the church services in 
Christendom. 

The girl was two years old before the father found 
time to devote to her baptism. ” Mary ” was as long 
a name as he could endure. It was quite too long for 
common conversation, and " Maime ” was instantly 
subsituted. 

Little Maime was hardly five years old when her 
mother died. This was a sudden blow to Amos 
Carleton, for it was something he had never figured 
upon in his estimates of profit and loss. He paused 
for a moment in the whirl of the rapids ; but before 
he could arrange the matter clearly in his mind, or 
realize the situation of the two little ones, holding 
his hands in silent wonder by the coffin and the 
grave, the whole picture was swept away, and Amos 
Carleton was looking something far more dreadful in 
the face. In truth, this keen-eyed man of business 
was very nearly overwhelmed in the sea of finance. 
Had his wife lived a little longer he might possibly 
have been tempted to test her friendship in a frank 
confession. He might have said to her, "lam a 
ruined man. I have carried a high hand, but at last 
I have lost. Shall we turn back again, and with 
nothing to start upon begin life over?” 


10 


THE ONLY ONE. 


They might have suddenly discovered that they 
actually and really loved each other — or quite the 
contrary, who knows? But when, instead, he saw 
only those two helpless little orphans clinging to his 
hands he shook his head, and muttered, " No ! ” 

Then again he turned toward the city. 

How it came about that all went on without an 
interruption, no one knew ; but no one wondered, for 
Amos Carleton was one of those exceptional business 
men, so thoroughly capable of taking care of his own 
afiairs, as well as controlling the concerns of others, 
that no one considered it possible for him to become 
financially embarrassed ; no one was on the lookout 
for such a state of things. An expensive governess 
was engaged to care for the children, and economy 
was an unknown quantity. 

No one asked where the money came from, for it 
was a foregone conclusion that Amos Carleton had a 
limitless supply. 

Years came and went. The children grew up, 
seeing little of the world, but perfectly happy in 
their lovely home, realizing a peculiar reverence for 
that kindly dictator whom they called father ; never 
more than that. Strangers with whom they came in 
contact called them ” peculiar.” Surely it would 
have been absurd to have pitied them. 

” Murder will out,” they say ; but twelve years 
went by, and no murder did out. Instead of curtail- 
ing expenses, private tutors were added to the family. 
Gold was as free as air, and Osgood Carleton’s clas- 
sical education even was completed before he had ever 


THE ONLY ONE. 


11 


seen what men call the world. But his tutors were 
proud of him, his sister was proud of him, his father 
was proud of him : he was proud of himself. It 
was with him a pride of being, however, much more 
than a pride of birth or position. His face was not 
handsome, but a contraction of thoughtfulness in the 
forehead, blending in the spirit of a smile faintly 
suggesting itself about the lips, produced a combi- 
nation both attractive and trustworthy. When he 
spoke, which was not when it was quite as conven- 
ient to avoid it, he spoke slowly and said as little as 
would completely cover the case in hand ; for, owing 
to his peculiar youth, he already looked upon life 
more as a philosopher than as a man. Whatever he 
undertook he began systematically, and with an 
avowed intention to succeed. Failure is a bad 
word. He never employed it. 

Maime was as like her brother metaphysically, and 
as unlike him physically, as could well be imagined. 
Together they were all the world to each other. 

When the tutors said farewell to Carleton Cottage, 
however, a matter of grave importance appeared 
before the young man. He thought it over seriously, 
and made up his mind. Then he talked with Maime, 
and with tears in her blue eyes she agreed with him. 
At breakfast the next morning he said to his father, 
'' Am I to study for a profession or go into busi- 
ness ? ” 

Amos Carleton started from a re very, very much 
as he had the morning when he discovered that his 


12 


THE ONLY ONE. 


wife was dying. But quietly enough he asked, 
Which do you prefer ? ” 

"I should like to study medicine,” Osgood replied, 
looking up doubtfully ; for he apprehended that his 
father’s success would induce him to wish his son to 
follow the same business. Could he have looked 
into the heart as easily as into the face before him, 
he would have had no misgivings. 

" Do you know which school is the best ? ” his 
father asked indifferently a moment later. 

Osgood replied without hesitation. 

"When does the term begin?” Amos Carleton 
was moving his chair from the table ; for his carriage 
had just passed the window, and he would not have 
waited a moment longer for anything less than a 
funeral or a baptism. 

" It begins in a week, sir,” Osgood replied, also 
rising. 

His father turned suddenly as he reached the door, 
looking at him in a wild, vacant way for a moment. 
The strange sensations of that day of the funeral were 
sweeping over him. Then he turned his back, ground 
his teeth, and muttered as he closed the door, " You 
had better make your arrangements and apply.” 

Osgood shuddered, as the voice grated harshly on 
his ears. He stood there watching the closed door 
and wondering what it meant, till Maime came in and 
recalled him to the duty of making arrangements, as 
his father had directed. 

He entered the medical school just as he would 
have set himself to solve a mathematical proposition. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


13 


He had certain properties to obtain certain results. 
It was perfectly rational. There was no reason why 
he should not attain them, nor any reason why he 
should attempt anything else until he had attained 
them. The world was new to him, but for the 
present he cared as little for it as though he were at 
Carleton Cottage. For the present he proposed to 
master the mysteries of medicine, and of men as a 
mass of flesh and blood and bones ; not as moving 
spirits in the world, full of designs and plots and 
ambitions. He had not attempted to study faces. 
They were yet an unopened book to him, but he had 
no doubt that when he attempted to master them he 
could understand them as easily as a page of Homer 
or an oration of Cicero. What did he care for faces 
now? He did not even look at them. He could not 
have told the color of his sister’s hair, though he 
had a vague idea that it was very beautiful. He was 
not even sure that his father wore a beard. As a 
matter of necessity, he succeeded in the medical 
school. 

At the end of two years he had formed but one 
friendship. But that was a right strong one. The 
subject was Guy Underwood, a student a year below 
him ; a dark-skinned, fiery Southerner, well imbued, 
however, with the freer principles of the North ; a 
jovial fellow ; one given to looking thoroughly into 
everything, even to the best way of making squash 
pies and custard puddings, and perfectly posted in 
all the latest styles. 

Guy Underwood was a much keener observer of 


14 


THE OKLY ONE. 


men. He was well satisfied with this friendship, and 
willingly accepted an invitation to spend his summer 
vacation at Carleton Cottage. 

” You are an odd stick,” Guy said one day, as they 
stood facing each other, with foils trembling between 
them. " Why did n’t you join one of the clubs ? ” 
He paused for a moment, as a threatening motion de- 
manded his closest attention, then added, "You 
must have had an education as broad as it was deep. 
But why in the world didn’t you show up to the 
boys, and make the fellows stand round a little when 
they called you a book-worm ? ” 

"I went there to study medicine,” Osgood replied, 
making a successful parry, and a more successful 
thrust, and planting his powdered tip fair upon the 
red heart on his friend’s buckskin vest. 

Underwood threw down his foil in disgust. 
"There’s three to one,” he exclaimed, "and lean 
beat even Middleton two in three.” 

"Who is Middleton?” Osgood asked indifferently, 
as he moderately picked up the foil, and carefully hung 
the two in their proper place. 

" Humbug ! ” muttered the Southerner, lighting a 
cigarette and turning with his friend toward the lawn. 
"Don’t tell me that you don’t know the best fencer, 
the biggest bully, and the poorest scholar in your own 
class.” 

" I never touched a foil in the city, and I never 
heard the name, so far as I remember,” Osgood re- 
plied, listlessly. 

"That fellow with sandy hair and little eyes, 


THE ONLY ONE. 


15 


always biting one end of his yellow mustache,” said 
Underwood. He was not so fond of the character- 
istics of the ^N'orth as of its theories. 

"If he did n’t like it, why did n’t he cut it oif?” 
Osgood asked, more thoughtfully. 

" Bosh ! You must remember him ! ” his friend re- 
peated, impatiently. 

" Well, my dear fellow, I do not. I never saw a 
bully with sandy hair chewing a yellow mustache, 
in my life.” 

With a modest grunt the Southerner threw him- 
self upon a bench in a rustic arbor. " I don’t won- 
der the fellows called you a book- worm,” he ex- 
claimed. " You read a page of Greek or Latin, 
French or German, as though they were English, and 
can tell one good-for-nothing old saw-bones from an- 
other, just by the way he cuts up meat, and then 
don’t know a man you have seen every day for two 
years in the class-room. I did n’t suppose you would 
know a foil from a toothpick, or a pistol from a pop- 
gun, either, and here you’ve snuffed a candle where I 
could n’t hit the bull’s-eye, and you wipe me clean at 
fencing, every time. I say ! why did n’t you show 
up what you were to the boys ? ” 

" There ’s time enough for that, by and by,” Osgood 
replied, with a low laugh. " Just now I have noth- 
ing to do, and I am trying to do it. In the city I am 
busy.” 

"Don’t believe you went out to dinner once,” said 
the Southerner, watching a wreath as it rolled away 
from his cigarette. 


16 


THE ONLY ONE. 


"Yes, I did, once,” replied the other, laughing. 
"But it was all nonsense. I would n’t go again.” 

"But, my dear fellow, how do you ever expect to 
get on in the world, without knowing it? Do you 
expect that some pretty girl will come walking up to 
you in the street, one of these days, and tell you to 
marry her?” 

"Marry? Nonsense, Guy ! I shall never marry. 
I ’am going to live with Maime.” 

Guy Underwood smiled. "You are quite the fel- 
low to say that. Why, man ! you don’t know a 
woman from a rag baby. You ’ll tumble into it the 
first time you set your eyes on a trap.” 

"Then it is just as well that, from preference, I 
look the other way,” said Osgood, rather inatten- 
tively. But a moment later he was listening more 
closely, as his friend continued, — 

" And don’t lay too heavy an investment on 
always having that pretty sister of yours to live with. 
Some one will come this way by and by and pick her 
up before you can say boo ! and two ’s company 
where three is a crowd then, you know.” 

Osgood looked at Guy Underwood, much as his 
father had once looked at him. It was a new idea, 
not over-agreeable, and he was very like his father 
in many respects. He thought upon it for a moment, 
ahd then said, abruptly, " Marry her yourself, Guy, 
and go halves with me.” 

"It might take more than two to make that bar- 
gain,” Guy replied, laughing, as he threw his cigar- 
ette away and turned toward the house, quite willing 


THE ONLY ONE. 


17 


-to do whatever lay within his power to please his 
friend in so slight a matter. 

Left alone, Osgood began to meditate. The con- 
fines of Carleton Cottage seemed too close for him ; 
he wandered away from them and over the hill, 
rising beyond, covered by one of the most pic- 
turesque cemeteries of America. It was just such 
as the resting-place of the dead should be, much 
better than the gloomy church vaults and horrible 
catacombs. 

He wandered on, intent upon nothing in particu- 
lar, wondering if, after all, it might not be better for 
him to know a little more of the world in which he 
was obliged to live and move fur the time being. 

Thus meditating, he slowly approached a humble 
pony phaeton and a grizzled gray pony standing 
beside a lot surrounded by a modest iron paling. 
Inside the fence there were two grave-stones, and 
beside them a little country maid upon her knees, 
preparing to set out some flowers. 

It was late in the year for this work. He won- 
dered what sort of flowers she was setting out so 
late, and drew a little nearer. Gardening was a 
passion born with him, and a moment later, without 
so much as realizing the fact, he was leaning on the 
iron rail. 

Cosgove ” was the name written upon the head- 
stones. "Mother and father,” he said to himself, 
and looked pityingly at the little waif bending over 
the flowers. 

" Those calla lilies will do better if you plant them 


18 


THE ONLY ONE. 


in the shade, miss,” he observed, leisurely ; and, in 
much the same spirit in which he would have touched 
a spider with a straw, he watched the little gardener, 
and wondered what the result would be. 

"Why is that? ” she asked, turning without rising. 

" They need moisture,” he replied indifferently. 
Why should he care where she planted her lilies ? 

"They will run to leaves there,” she said. "I 
would rather have them flower.” 

Osgood smiled. It began to appear somewhat im- 
portant, after all, just where she planted those lilies. 

" It is too late for them to flower this season, any- 
where, and you have a rosebush there that will live 
all winter, and will do much better in the sun.” 

Again she thought it over. "I think 3^011 are 
right,” she said. " I will plant it there.” 

She did not proceed upon the strictest principles 
of art, and out of pity for the flowers the medical 
student observed, " I am very fond of gardening, and 
have had some little instruction. If you wish I will 
set them out for you.” She looked up in surprise. 
"I beg 3"Our pardon, miss, I was bolder than I meant 
to be,” he added, possibly a little confused. ”My 
name is Carleton, Osgood Carleton. I live in the 
cottage, yonder, by the elms. I am at home on my 
vacation, with nothing to do, and I thought that wan- 
dering over this hill would be a good way to do it. 
You were not planting those flowers very well, and 
I knew that the flowers would not do well by you to 
pay for it, so I offered to help you. I suppose it was ‘ 
rude, and I will go away if I annoy you.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


19 


You need not go till you have planted the flowers, 
if you really enjoy it,” she said with a little smile ; 
and it suddenly occurred to him that the face was 
very pretty down in the depths of that sun-hat, when 
a smile lit up the shadows. He began work as her 
gardener ; and, leaning upon the tombstone, she con- 
tinued, "I know it is very late for this work, but 
though it is ten years since my mother died, this is 
the first time I have seen her gTave.” 

”Do you remain here long ?” the student asked, as 
he shook the rose-bush from the pot. He paused for 
a moment to examine the roots, and wonder why he 
had asked it. 

” My aunt has brought me here to live with my 
grandmother, and I think we shall remain,” the 
maid replied, simply and frankly, as she took the 
empty pot and laid it outside the paling. " I have 
some mignonette seed here. Where will you sow 
that?” 

The medical gardener did not reply at once. He 
was thinking more of the speaker than of what she 
said, and wondering if all young women were about 
alike. It suddenly occurred to him that in the com- 
mon course of things he was expected to say some- 
thing, and starting a little abruptly from his revery, 
he exclaimed, Mignonette ! Mignonette ! Why, of 
course ! Mignonette is one of the best things to sow 
late, but it is quite too late now even for that. But 
my gardener has any amount of it already planted 
and well started. If you will wait I will go doAvn 
and get some, or if you are coming another day I 


20 


THE ONLY ONE. 


will bring you up some plants that will do much 
better thati new seed, at any rate.” 

She smiled. The innocence of the man amused 
even a country girl. But as frankly as he had spoken, 
she replied that she proposed visiting that grave 
every Saturday morning at eleven o’clock, unless her 
aunt or her grandmother, or possibly the weather, 
prevented, and if he chose, some day, to bring some 
mignonette, she should be very much obliged. 

That was all. Then thej^ parted. Saturday morn- 
ing at eleven o’clock. He might have forgotten a 
wedding or dinner party in ten minutes, but Satur- 
day morning at eleven o’clock ! He felt sure he 
should remember that. 

'' If I should tell Guy of this,” he said to himself, 
as he wandered down the hill, "h’m, he’d think I 
was coming on. Miss Cosgrove — a tolerably pretty 
name. I will make a note of it. Father died in 
1841, mother in 1850. She’s twenty years old, or 
more. I didn’t suppose she was fifteen, or I should 
have been more careful. Living on charity, with an 
aunt and a grandmother ; not a very interesting thing 
to do, I fancy, but she seemed well educated, at least. 
She had a fine head of hair. I wonder what color it 
was. I wonder if I should know her if I met her 
anywhere else. Confound it ! I ’ve forgotten how she 
looked, already, but she was pretty. Poor thing, 
I ’m sorry for her, living with an aunt and a grand- 
mother ! ” 

He walked slowly, and before he had reached 
Carleton Cottage he had begun distinctively to pity 


THE ONLY ONE. 


21 


her, and to wish that'he might aid her in some more 
important way than simply planting rose-bushes. 
Be found the gardener, and directed him to make a 
collection of plants most appropriate for the season, 
and have them ready for him at ten o’clock on Satur- 
day morning. And having thus settled the matter he 
set it aside, only stopping now and then in the midst 
of a cigar or a conversation with Guy to hope that 
the terrible aunt and the grandmother would not 
stand in the way on Saturday morning at eleven 
o’clock. 


22 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTEK II. 

I T was rather provoking, as they sat on the veranda, 
Friday evening, that Maime should suggest, 
"Let’s go on an all-day drive to the hills to-morrow.” 

Her brother had never in his life objected to driv- 
ing, but, strangely enough, he looked as high as his 
sister’s chin, from a dangerous knight on the chess- 
board, and asked, "Would not Monday do as well ? ” 
Without her usual forethought Maime challenged 
him with an impromptu " Why ? ” 

" Chiefly because I have an engagement to-mor- 
row,” her brother replied, between a cause and effect 
on the chess-board, from which he did not again look 
up. "I could not go with you, and you and Guy 
would be lonesome without me. See?” 

"Then Monday, of course,” said Maime, with a 
low laugh, as she set herself again to urging on the 
fancy work which lay in her lap, quite as though 
nothing had happened. She was very sure, however, 
that something of decided importance had happened, 
or was about to ; and one of the most admirably devel- 
oped of Maime’s admirable qualities was curiosity. 
It was not of that fiendish sort, but simply of a mis- 
chievous order, calculated to keep her well posted 
upon all that was going on, and above all she was 
passionately fond of vexing her wise brother by 


THE ONLY ONE. 


23 


knowing a great deal more about everything than he 
knew about it. He had quite ignored her in failing to 
open his heart a])out this mysterious engagement, — 
the very best of reasons why she should at once pro- 
ceed to understand the whole. She made a valuable 
lieutenant of Guy, in spite of his protestations ; and 
Osgood wondered how it came about that upon that 
Saturday morning of all others, his friend seemed to 
prefer his society to that of his sister. His company 
began to be a })ore. Osgood Carleton wondered why. 
It was past ten, yet Guy was vexingly contented. 

Dryly enough, Osgood remarked that he was go- 
ing to see the gardener, and turned away. 

" There ’s nothing in the world I like so much as 
flowers ; let me go with you,” said Guy. 

His friend looked at him almost in despair. Guy 
only laughed. ”Come on ! ” he said, ” let’s go and 
find the gardener.” 

* Carleton led the way, and naturally went where he 
felt sure the gardener could not be found. But nat- 
urally, too, in that peculiar fatality of inanimate inci- 
dents, they met the gardener at the first turn ; met 
him with the basket of flowers on his arm. 

" They ’ve been out of the ground this half-hour, 
Mr. Osgood,” said he, " and they ’re beginning to 
wilt. They orter be sot out directly.” 

The unsophisticated knight took the basket, and in 
a rather irregular fashion, succeeded in making his 
friend understand that he expected to be back in an 
hour. Then he walked away, looking as much as 
possible as though he had no idea of going over to the 


24 


THE ONLY ONE. 


cemetery ; while Guy, with his hands thrust into the 
pockets of his smoking-jacket, sought his pretty 
blond general, and reported that her brother had 
gone away for an hour, with a basket of flowers on 
his arm. Maime laughed outright, and her blue eyes 
wandered up over the cemetery hill. 

By some peculiar conjunction the grandmother, the 
aunt, and the weather were all as agreeable as heart 
could wish ; for the distant village clock had hardly 
ceased tolling when the gray pony and the humble 
phaeton appeared. " She knows how to be on time,’' 
the medical student observed, with some satisfaction. 

The pony would stand anywhere, even by the 
green grass of the graveyard, and the two met and 
proceeded with their work of decoration, more like 
old friends than might have been the case with any of 
natures less frank and simple. And when the flow- 
ers were all planted they wandered together over the 
brow of the hill, which, you know, commands one of 
the finest views in all the country. Then they parted. 
There was no further appointment made, yet each was 
confident that in the good old-fashioned way they 
should meet again, and that the rendezvous would 
still be the tombstone. It happened more than once 
and more than twice, till Osgood Carleton felt sure 
that he should know the little country girl, even if he 
were to meet her upon the street. He was sure, at 
least, that he should know that inevitable sun-hat and 
the inevitable gray pony. 

This proved quite correct ; for one midsummer day, 
while he stood with Maime and Guy at the gate of 


THE ONLY ONE. 


25 


Carleton Cottage, he discovered beyond a doubt that 
the pony and sun-hat were approaching them. His^ 
first incentive was to fiy ; then he paused to wonder 
what there was to fly from, and in the end he gathered 
courage, saluted the pony, the phaeton, or the sun- 
hat, — he was a little doubtful which, — and Maime 
and Guy were introduced. Before he had fully revived 
from this struggle they were all engaged upon the 
mysteries of croquet, — that glorious game which had 
just appeared upon the horizon of out-door pleasures, 
and which has since been murdered in characteristic 
American fashion. 

Guy was confounded. The fencing and target 
shooting were nothing to this, and Osgood certainly 
expected that Maime, too, would be astonished ; but 
Maime was better pleased to vex her brother by tak- 
ing it all as a matter of course and the most common 
of all occurrences. She was very well pleased with 
the stranger, too, and planned other meetings, and 
even said, one day, " I wish you would call me Maime. 
Formality does not come into the country so far as 
Carleton Cottage.” 

The little orphan thanked her, and blushed as she 
replied, "My name is Kate, plain Kate, and for 
short they call me Kit. I hate formality.” 

Then suddenly Osgood Carleton found himself 
unable to be so familiar as the rest. The precedence 
of a longer acquaintance failed him altogether. Some 
unseen hand was holding him back. Now and then 
he struggled to say " Miss Kittie,” but power could 
not have forced him another step. 


26 


THE ONLY ONE. 


The vacation ended, and just a very indefinite 
image of a little country girl was all that in the end 
followed Osgood Carleton to the great city. Indefi- 
nite? Yes. But very real, after all. She appeared 
before him in his books, and twined herself through 
his thoughts. It annoyed him. For the first time 
he ])egan to wonder who she was, and was vexed that 
he had forgotten to make a note of the color of her 
hair. In vain he struggled to place before his mind 
anything more real than the indistinct image of some- 
thing inexpressibly lovely and lovable. Then he 
endeavored to eradicate the memory altogether. But 
it lingered, in utter indifference to his will ; no more, 
no less, the same fond dream. He suddenly realized 
that he had done something more than study human 
nature in the cemetery, and indeed that he had failed 
to study human nature altogether, and had simply 
studied the human heart. 

After calm deliberation he sent a message to '' Miss 
Kittie,” in a letter to his sister. He was conscious 
of a strange thrill of pleasure when a message was 
returned. Then he ventured a short note throuofh 
the same mediator. He waited the reply as anxiously 
as though he had sent a first poem to a publisher. 
It came at last. It was quite as commonplace as his 
own ; but it bore an address, a simple one, a little vil- 
lage two miles from his home. It is strange how 
slight an incident can lift a man from earth to heaven. 
His next letter was sent direct to Kittle Cossfrove. 
and reached its destination. 

And now this man, who had not curiosity enough 


THE ONLY ONE. 


27 


to know by face or name the members of his own 
class, became conscious of an inordinate demand with- 
in him to know more, to know everything of this 
little country girl. He overcame a few conscientious 
scruples, and wrote to a friend in the village asking 
with careful carelessness about a family living there, 
composed of a grandmother, an aunt, and a victim 
who always drove about in a phaeton drawn by a 
gray pony. 

His friend replied that such a family took a cottage 
there for the summer, and possibly had not yet re- 
moved. They were non-communicative neighbors, 
evidently in very moderate circumstances. They 
were much liked, he said, by those who knew them, 
and the young woman spent most of her time among 
the poor of the village. 

The student was satisfied. It was better than he 
thought. He wrote again to Miss Kittie. He con- 
tinued writing, and Miss Kittie as often replied. 

The indistinct image, faint though it was, became 
the student’s daily and almost hourly companion. 


2S 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTEK III. 

I N the mean time Guy Underwood had not forgotten 
his resolution to carry his friend by force, if 
need be, into some of the excitements of city life ; 
and he found the first steps much easier to take than 
he had' feared. There was a restless, disturl)ing 
element in Osgood Carleton’s life, at last, which 
rendered excitement a pleasant counteraction. 

The theatre and opera, an occasional call with his 
friend, and an evening reception showed him more 
and more the wonders of the world ; but the more 
he saw of the glories of it, the more he thought, 
deeply and earnestly, of Kittie Cosgrove. In the 
end these thoughts, thus guided, began to assume a 
more practical turn. 

” Poverty,” they said to him, " is keeping that little 
cottage open all the year. But poverty is no great 
fault. What do you see in any one of these beautiful 
women about you, that you do not find in Kittie 
Cosgrove? Anything that would be desirable in a 
wife ? What more could you ask in her, unless that 
she loved you a little ? ” 

Love! Wife! Frightful suggestions ! He turned 
about and looked at himself as he had looked at his 
friend, and wondered what he could do with a wife. 
He had taken it for granted, thus far, that the little 


THE ONLY ONE. 


29 


maid thought of him precisely as he thought of her. 
Why not ? But now it began to seem as though he 
loved her. The more he thought of it the more sure 
he became, and the more doubtful as to whether she 
had ever thought of loving him. She had never 
more than followed an example as he set it, — never 
taken a step in advance. It appeared appropriate 
that he should say something to suggest the change 
of opinion that had come over him. He arranged 
his next letter so that she should understand the dis- 
covery he had made. Then he was ashamed of it, 
and almost asked the postmaster to give it back to 
him. 

” Guy,” he said, abruptly, as they were crossing 
the common together, ” does a man really love his 
wife in a distracted sort of way, and does she always 
love him in the same way before they marry ? ” 

Guy blew a long, low whistle, cut a snow-drift 
with his cane, and replied, ” Something of that sort, 
I believe. At all events, a good deal more of that 
nature before than afterward. Why ? ” 

Mother died when I was very young, you know, 
and I have not seen enough of other married people 
to know how it was. That is all.” He looked up in 
surprise as Guy burst into an uncommonly boisterous 
laugh. 

"Out with it, man,” said Guy, a moment later. 
"You’ve fallen in love with some one yourself. 
Who is it?” 

" I am not sure that I have fallen in love with any 
one,” Carleton replied, thoughtfully. And again he 


30 


THE ONLY ONE. 


was greeted with a boisterous laugh, which he could 
not understand. 

Guy saw the frown gathering on his friend’s face, 
and added, more seriously, "I tell you what it is, 
Carleton, you ’re in danger. I warned you in 
advance, but it seems that that was not enough. 
You’re a good fellow, and a great catch. You have 
become very popular in society, in return for the 
precious little I have been able to force you into it.’ 
Osgood interrupted him with a blank stare. He 
bore it patiently for a moment, then continued : 
" Don’t act as though you did n’t know what I mean. 
There ’s no reason why you should n’t virtually make 
your own selection in the whole city this winter, 
saving a few exceptions here and there. Don’t get 
mad. But I tell you, you know no more about 
women than a baby. Every man comes across a 
time in his life when the thing for him to do is to fall 
in love, and he generally does it. Fellows like you 
are very apt to love not wisely but too well, for the 
time being at least. It is instinctive ; something like 
bees swarming. The first thing he does is to see a 
lady smile upon him, and the next thing is to fall 
head over ears in love with her ; for he does n’t know 
enough to tell one of them from another.” He was 
growing excited. He brought his cane down with a 
dash, and covered his polished boots with snow. 
Osgood looked compassionately at the boots, but still 
listened attentively as his friend continued, ''Nine 
tenths of all the matrimonial infelicity of this world 
is due to the fact that not one man in ten but would 


THE ONLY ONE. 


31 


fall in love with and marry a boot-black” (he was 
thinking of the accident) , '' if he were rigged in 
petticoats, and presented just in the nick of time. 
Man begins to love in the abstract, an ideal, some- 
thing way beyond him, but he ends by going for the 
first thing to come within his range. If he miss the 
first time he tries again and again, till he succeeds at 
last ; and the minute it is all over he begins to 
wonder how in the world he was ever such a fool, 
and to see that in reality he was loving something 
else. Then, alas for the poor woman ! if she had 
really begun to love him. Now, I tell you, Carleton, 
God never brought it about that the more civilized 
and the better and wiser the world becomes, the more 
thoroughly it believes that the right way is to love 
one and only one, without also making it possible, at 
least, for that to be done and done handsomely. 
Now, if you find yourself falling in love, grow- 
ing spoony, and all that sort of thing, you know, 
my advice to you is to step back and wait a little 
while. When the right woman comes along, you ’ll 
love her. You can’t help it. You won’t get over it 
by keeping out of her way. And if, on the other 
hand, you should get over it, it would probably be a 
blessed good thing for you that it happened before, 
not afterward. There ’s no use trying to make your- 
self think that you love some one, and then trying to 
make her love you. It can be done, and is done 
every day of the year. But there ’s a sequel to that 
sort of a story every time.” 

"You should have studied theolog}^ Guy,” said 
Osgood Carleton. 


32 


THE ONLY ONE. 


"Yes,” returned the Southerner, with a laugh, 
"and devoted myself to preaching to the bishop. 
You ’re right, Carleton ; you know a deuced sight 
more than I do about everything but the world. 
You can cut a man to pieces and put him together 
again better than any one in your class, and we all 
know it, but the trouble is you don’t know anything 
about yourself. I knew you ’d not be out with me 
for saying so. A mastiff does n’t fight with a J)uppy 
no bigger than his tail.” 

" Shut up ! ” was Osgood Carleton’s brief rejoinder, 
as they entered the medical-school building. 

He was not at all angry, however. He had lis- 
tened almost like a child in the midst of a fairy tale. 
He thought th<& matter over in the light of this cold- 
hearted philosophy, and determined that Guy was 
right. He would go more thoroughly into society, 
and look it over more carefully before he relied too 
firmly upon the little maid of the cemetery, or be- 
lieved too strongly in those first impressions. A 
week later he had an opportunity to act further upon 
the resolution, in attending with his friend a recep- 
tion tendered to one of the great men of the South by 
one of the great families of the North. 

"Let me tell you something,” said Guy, as they 
walked together toward the mansion. " I met a lady 
the other day. She is to be at the reception to-night. 
I am going to introduce you.” 

" You don’t say so ! Why did n’t you mention it 
earlier? ” 

"No nonsense,” said Guy ; "I tell you she ’s stun- 
ning.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


33 


” Then you ’d better think of your lecture instead 
of introducing me. If the fit should take me, you 
know — ’’ 

"You’re joking on stern realities, Carleton. If 
the fit takes you, I assure you you can’t do better 
than let it take ; that is, of course, supposing that 
* Barkis is willin ’.” 

" Then there is a little engineering necessary, after 
all,” said Osgood. "I thought that your glorious 
idea of true love was that it was a self-evident reality 
and an inexorable necessity. Now it really appears 
to me that you would simply have one fight against 
falling in love till he hit upon some one who, in cold 
blood, he determines is the right one for his wife, 
and then deliberately go ahead to fall desperately in 
love with her. If that be not cold blooded, what 
is?” 

"Have mercy on me, do! and stop that horrible 
philosophy, Carleton, for a half-minute. I want to 
tell you about this lady. She has not been East 
very long. Her mother is a widow. They have 
very lately come from California. But I ’ll warrant 
you that every eligible fellow in the city has turned 
an eye that way. She and her mother have several 
million dollars between them. Her father was king 
of California bankers,! believe. Carrie Ashley is her 
name. Don’t forget it, for I shall not shout it when 
I introduce you ; and I don’t want you to ask me all 
over again right before her face, the way you did the 
other night. But I warn you against just one thing. 
DovUt fall in love with her.” 


34 


THE ONLY ONE. 


With this p«arting shot, well calculated to have pre- 
cisely the opposite effect, Guy dropped the subject 
till the time came for the introduction, and Osgood 
Carleton found himself before a being more beautiful 
than any he had ever seen before ; and, more than 
that, she smiled upon him. 

Naturally enough, he was somewhat unprepared for 
this ; and, as weeks went by, though no one made less 
demonstration over the lovely Carrie Ashley than did 
Osgood Carleton, no one was more surely sinking in 
that most delightful delirium which some call love. 
It was such a novel enchantment that he had hardly 
encouragement to be vexed with himself, or even to 
wonder if it were that the laughing eyes were irre- 
sistible, or if it were the smile which always played 
about the lips that was bewildering him. Mentally 
intoxicated, he said to himself, ” Guy is right. I 
must see more of society.” Society I Why did not 
some inner consciousness open his eyes to the fact that 
society was a bore ! never so much so as now, if by 
any chance Miss Ashley were not a part of it, and an 
utter nonentity at the best when he found himself 
beside her. But the more he thought of Carrie Ash- 
ley in the great city, the less he thought of Kittie 
Cosgrove in that lonely village. She seemed very 
plain and quiet and commonplace when, a little 
conscience-smitten, he compared her with ” society.” 
He wondered how it had been possible for him to 
become so imbued with memories of such a little 
country girl. "I was very unsophisticated; Guy 
was right,” he said to himself. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


35 


In the very act of thus expiating himself, he was 
conscious of something deeper than the enchantment 
which Carrie Ashley had thrown over him, rising in 
rebellion, charging him with being false to himself 
and false to Kittie Cosgrove ; but he put away the 
thought in anger, and, realizing the bonds which 
bound him to the country girl more than the new 
ties which were toiling about him, he determined to 
break them. They were obnoxious. They were out 
of place and keeping with student-life. Utterly 
ignorant that he was simply making room for a new 
conqueror by displacing the old, he deliberately 
struggled to break the spell of the cemetery. His 
letters to the little village were fewer and shorter. 
The answers fell off in precisely the same ratio. 
” She is only an echo of myself, after all,” he thought, 
and smiled as he realized how easily he had fallen 
before such an indifferent altar. 

The waif shrank obediently back again into the 
cemetery, though not quite to oblivion. It began to 
be an intolerable bore to keep up that rose-bush 
gallantry through the winter. It interfered with his 
studies ; and, much longer than usual after his last 
letter, he took his pen, kindly enough, die thought, 
and wrote : ” Dear little friend, I am so busy with my 
studies that it seems impossible for me to enjoy, so 
often as I have, the pleasure of writing to you. You 
must not think that my interest in you wanes if my 
letters are not so frequent during the rest of the 
term.” 

He had not a thought of right or wrong to any one’s 


36 


THE ONLY ONE. 


heart in the matter ; for he no sooner ceased to fancy 
that he loved Kittie Cosgrove than he also ceased to 
imagine it possible that she loved him. Why should 
he have thought that Carrie Ashley could have any- 
thing to do with this change ? She only represented 
to him that vague term " society,” just as Kittie 
Cosgrove had for a moment made him think of 
"love.” "It takes my breath away to look at her,” 
he said, " but I must get myself used to that sort of 
thing.” 

Then he turned to his study again ; but, instead of 
the technical phraseology of the books, he was think- 
ing of something Shakespeare said about being over- 
wrought, and throwing a pearl away, richer than all 
his kind. He was wondering what could have 
suggested that, when Gruy entered. 

" I say, old fellow ! ” he exclaimed, "I want you to 
take me in to your operation this afternoon. You Te 
a lucky dog to get that chance. Kot another fellow 
in the class would have had it. I tell you it ’s not 
often that two such nabobs as Dr. Youno: and Carrie 
Ashley agree in thinking the same fellow the very 
top of the pile ! ” 

" Carrie Fiddlesticks ! ” said Osgood. " I ’d give 
more for the good opinion of one Dr. Young than of 
fifty Carrie Ashley s.” 

" So indeed would I, my dear fellow, in a medical 
way,” replied Guy, apologetically; "but when it 
comes to marrying, and, confound it, a fellow has got 
to marry some time, why then the good opinion of 
one Carrie Ashley would be worth more than that of 
fifty Dr. Youngs.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


37 


" I believe that you love her yourself,” said 
Osgood, almost out of patience with his friend. 

" Love her ? ” replied Guy, enthusiastically. 
”Why, man, I adore her!” 

" Then why don’t you marry her ? ” asked his 
friend, in a way that was not wholly indifferent. 

"Aha! my dear fellow, you’ve touched a tender 
point there,” said Guy ; " and, if I must tell you, it is 
because I know just one little woman in this world 
who beats her all to — ! ” He brought his clinched 
fist down upon the table to finish the sentence. 

" I doubt it ! ” There was a spark of energy in 
that, which made the stoic smile at himself, and Guy 
laughed outright as he replied, — 

" So you are the fellow who is in love, eh ? and 
ready to be jealous as a Moor at the mere thought 
that I might have a finger in the fight. That ’s a good 
sign, my boy. But never fear. I ’m over my ears 
in love with some one else. I’ll take back the lec- 
ture I delivered two months ago, and now that you ’ve 
done it, I ’ll tell you frankly that I ’m glad of it.” 

" Done what ? ” Osgood asked, looking up in aston- 
ishment. 

" Don’t ! don’t ! ” Guy moaned, as he threw himself 
into a chair ; " don’t put on any more of that stupid- 
ity with me. Why, even the fellows in your class, 
who declared as late as a month ago that you were 
nothing but a ponderous book- worm, have opened 
their eyes in astonishment. Who could help it, to 
see you deliberately walk off with the belle of the 
city, the heiress of the age, the most beautiful woman 


38 


THE ONLY ONE. 


in America ! You, a good-for-nothing medical stu- 
dent.! There, now, stop looking at me, and tell me 
if you will get me a chance to see the operation which 
you and Dr. Young are trying to keep all to your- 
selves.” 

" Of course I will,” Osgood replied, absently, with- 
out moving his wondering eyes from his friend. And 
even after Guy was gone, he sat staring at the door, 
as though that might explain something if it would. 
He was astounded. He studied himself more than 
his books. He wondered if there were any truth in 
what Guy said, and determined to be painfully cir- 
cumspect in the future. He still had an idea that 
love was very like a disease, to be regulated by a few 
drops of the will. This resolve had scarcely come 
into command when jealousy put in an appearance, 
and routed all the well-regulated forces, lacking, as 
they did, a veteran self-control. 

” Sir Edgar Stanley,” that was the villain’s name. 
He at once commended himself to Osgood Carleton 
as a villain, chiefly because he had repeatedly met 
the man in Miss Ashley’s parlor, and with astonish- 
ing perception had discovered that, more than any 
other guest, he smiled, and smiled most graciously, 
upon Miss Ashley. The medical student astonished 
Guy Underwood by asking him, abruptly, one Sun- 
day afternoon, if he knew Sir Edgar Stanley. Of 
course he knew him. Guy Underwood knew every 
one. But he looked up as who should say, ''How in 
the world have you succeeded in keeping a name and 
a face together long enough to ask a question about 


THE ONLY ONE. 


39 


them ? ” Then recalling the rumors that Sir Edgar 
was a frequent visitor at the Ashley mansion, he 
smiled, and replied, " He is said to be an English 
nobleman.” 

” Of course. But what else ? ” demanded the other. 

” Well, to be a little more expansive with you, as 
a friend, it is my private opinion that he is a first- 
class fraud. That’s just between us, you know ; for 
society would lynch me if it knew I had whispered 
such a thought of its idol. The ladies are too busy 
repeating his title to think much of the man. He 
looks like the veriest pink-and-white saint that ever 
sailed the Great Invisible, and I ’ve no doubt he acts 
like one, too, when he is in good society He ’s a 
handsome fellow, and I pity the lady more than blame 
her who comes into his clutches.” Possibly Guy 
believed all this. Doubtless, however, he said it in 
full view of the effect it might produce. He was de- 
termined to carry his point. 

" Is he rich ? ” Osgood asked, with apparent indif- 
ference. 

"That I can’t say,” replied his friend. " He is 
supposed to come from England, and has a trunk full 
of letters from high-toned Englishmen to various gold- 
headed canes in America ; and of one thing I am very 
sure, he knows where investments in society’s legal 
tender will pay him the best dividends. Apparently 
he is a man of leisure, seeking recreation and amuse- 
ment upon this benighted side of the ocean.” 

"He freezes me to a block of ice,” said Osgood, 
rather more moderately than the sentiment rendered 
appropriate. 


40 


THE ONLY ONE. 


" But he has a wonderful polish, an artistic dignity, 
and a remarkable harmony about him, which I sup- 
pose he puts on like his dress-coat, when he expects 
to be looked at, that melt society quite as easily and 
effectively.” 

Day by day it became more evident to Osgood 
Carleton that this man was intent upon marrying 
Carrie Ashley. It set him thinking more seriously. 
If every one thought that she loved him instead, and 
if he loved her, why should he stand by and see this 
man win the day ? A woman worth having was w^orth 
working for, in spite of all that Guy said about wait- 
ing. Thereupon he indignantly discarded Guy ’s 'ad- 
vice, and, without waiting to ask himself a second 
time if he were really at all sure that he loved her, 
and if it were probable that she really loved him in 
return, he determined to settle the matter at once. 
In reality he thought of it much as if it were a busi- 
ness transaction, quite like entering the medical 
school. It was a matter of uncertainty, till he had 
made application. He disliked uncertainties. 

The resolve once taken, he did not wait for time 
and philosophy to weaken his position, but presented 
himself at once at Miss Ashley’s door. 

His hand trembled as he touched the bell-knob. 
He drew it back angrily, and holding it between his 
eyes and a street lamp, he looked at it scornfully. 
"Osgood Carleton, what are you made of?” he 
muttered. Then he turned and rang the bell calmly. 
It was excitement, not sentiment, that disturbed him. 
But why should he distinguish between them ? 


THE ONLY ONE. 


41 


Fate could not have prepared a more propitious 
evening. Carrie Ashley was alone, and, smiling, said 
she was glad that he had come. 

It was too late then to looli at himself, outlined 
against the light of a street lamp, and ask what he 
was made of. All his life long he had been burdened 
with the over-abundance of words. He could never 
understand the. wisdom of having so many in the 
language. Just now he would have given anything 
for a few of those which he had so often and so ruth- 
lessly discarded. But they were all gone. 

"Miss Cosgrove,” he stammered, "I — I — -I mean 
Miss Ashley.” 

She smiled as though she understood his embarrass- 
ment. Possibly she had seen others in that same 
position. She assisted him, unwittingly, perhaps, 
but dangerously, when still smiling she asked, 
"Well, what will you have of Miss Ashley?” for the 
words were scarcely spoken when he replied, — 

"I would have her marry me.” 

Instantly he wished he had not said it. He dared 
not look in her face ; but the silence that followed 
bore to him the frightful suggestion that he had been 
dreaming, deluded by his friend, fooled by his own 
fancy, and that this superb ideal of all that was beau- 
tiful had never thought of loving him. His cheeks 
burned with shame. 

Now he looked anxiously in her face. What could 
he read there? Surely nothing of hope, yet she was 
not angry. There were tears in her eyes. She was 
struggling to keep them back. She was shrinking 
away from him. 


42 


THE ONLY ONE. 


"Miss Ashley,” he exclaimed, "have I done 
wrong? You do not know how much you are tome, 
or you would not blame me.” 

"I do not blame you,” she said, with a half-stifled 
sob. "And yet, I thought — I thought you were — 
come, sit down beside me, Mr. Carleton, and we will 
speak calmly. I do not think you are yourself to- 
night. You do not know me. You have only seen 
me at my best, and for a few weeks at most. You 
think me rich. People say I am handsome. That 
is all you know about me. If I were poor, a 
country girl, for instance, you would not want to 
marry me.” 

She was drawing a delicate lace handkerchief 
through her fingers. The student grasped the tiny 
hand, though it crushed the handkerchief. 

" Carrie Ashley,” he exclaimed earnestly, " I would 
you were a poor girl. Throw away your wealth. 
Tell me the report is false. Try me, and you will 
see that it is you I love, — you, Carrie Ashley ! ” 

For a moment both were silent. Her hand 
trembled as it lay in his. The weight of a hair 
might have broken the false ice which was forming, 
but with a shudder she threw oflf the charm, and 
looking earnestly in his eyes, she asked in a low, 
almost pleading voice, "Did you never think that 
you loved before ? ” 

He dropped her hand, and, moving restlessly, as 
though discovered in some sort of a crime, he replied, 
" Yes ; I once thought that I loved ” ; and added, 
with more energy and less humility, " but you have 
shown me that I was mistaken.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


43 


For an instant he gathered courage. By some 
happy blunder he had surely put that well, and he 
began to think it might have turned the scales. 

” Was she rich ? ” Carrie Ashley asked, returning 
his gaze, more sadly. 

His eyes fell, and humbly enough he replied, ” She 
was poor.” He felt like a convict, yet even then he 
Avondered why. Surely he had not left Kittie Cos- 
grove because she was poor. What could he say ? 
Nothing. It was an unspeakable relief that another 
caller was announced, yet he was angry with himself 
that it should be a relief. 

He reached his rooms like one walking in a dream. 
He paced them till the morning dawned, vainly 
endeavoring to fix his thoughts upon the significance 
of that hour. 

His foot struck a hassock lying in his path. It 
maddened him. He kicked it furiously into the dis- 
tant corner. " She must know that I have a fortune 
of my own ! ” he groaned, ”and that I care not a 
straw for her cursed gold.” Then he started and 
shuddered, as in his ears sounded the echo of that con- 
victing confession, '"she was poor,” and that old in- 
definite vision of the little country girl rose from the 
shadows to challenge him. He groaned and turned 
away. What had one more than the other ? Wealth ! 
Wealth, that was all. And what did he care for 
wealth ? Nothing ! Absolutely nothing ! And it 
all ended in his simply bitterly deploring that he had 
not followed the inclinations of his oAvn will, and kept 
to the silent demands of his books, instead of follow- 


44 


THE ONLY ONE. 


ing Guy Underwood's advice to look humanity in 
the face. 

With the return of daylight he was able to expel 
the grim phantoms, and at least assume the role of the 
preoccupied student of old ; and day after day a terri- 
ble week wore away. Then Guy Underwood ap- 
peared again, and, throwing his hat angrily on the 
floor, he exclaimed, "Good heavens, Carleton, what 
the devil is to pay?” 

" I don’t know,” his friend replied, in the old, won- 
dering way. 

"Why, man!” the other ejaculated, "don’t you 
know that Sir Edgar Stanley has cut you out, and is 
going to marry Carrie Ashley ? What under heaven 
have you been doing, all this time ? ” 

"Nothing,” said Osgood Carleton, staring va- 
cantly. 

Then he came to himself, and realized what he had 
done ; what he had escaped, perhaps. The moment 
the possibility was gone, he saw himself without a 
mask. He had made a mistake. Carrie Ashley had 
saved him. So it appeared to him now ; and in this 
light he wrote a letter — a penitent letter — to the 
little village near his home. In time it was returned 
to him from the village post-office. The grand 
mother, the aunt, and their charge were gone. He 
wondered where, and tried in vain to learn. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


45 


CHAPTER lY. 

S ni EDGAR possessed himself of a magnificent 
mansion a few miles from the city (except for 
several mortgages, of which he made no mention in his 
report to Mrs. Ashley), and, as soon as repairs and 
improvements could be accomplished, making of it a 
home as thoroughly English as could be produced in 
America, he was to bear his bride in triumph to 
Stanley Hall. 

The cruel war broke out in all its devastating force, 
but it did not delay the nuptials. No fairy in all the 
world of romance came to warn Miss Ashley of the 
fearful fall before her. Guy was quite right in an 
inference that she knew she was making a mistake ; 
but even more than that, had she known the entirety 
of the mistake, had some kind angel disclosed the 
whole, one may possibly doubt if it had made any 
difference ; for to have seen her one would have rec- 
ognized, first of all, the indomitable will and cour- 
age for a heroine, were it called upon, and would 
have admitted, whatever the inexplicable might be in 
her actions, that there must be withal a method in 
her madness. 

When the war-cry sounded, Osgood Carleton was 
one of the first in his graduating class to petition for 


46 


THE ONLY ONE. 


an early examination, that he might answer the call 
at once. 

” You ’re a fool to go into the army,” said Guy. 
" Think of Maime. A year ago you told me you 
should never marry, but would live with Maime. 
Would n’t it be nobler now, to stand up under this 
little cut, and carry out that resolve for her sake in- 
stead of your own ? ” 

"Why don’t you marry Maime, Guy? It would 
be far better.” 

" To tell you the truth,” said Guy, " I have been 
booked for just that ceremony for something over 
six months.” Osgood turned upon him suddenly, 
just as his father had turned the morning he proposed 
to study medicine. " You ’ll find me rather tough 
if you ’re going to eat me,” Guy added, with a forced 
smile, for he was not thoroughly satisfied with this 
doubtful reception of the news. " It ’s your own 
fault; you invited me to spend last vacation with 
you ; you told me then to marry her, and you did not 
think me such a fool as not to do my best to follow 
the advice of such a prodigy of wisdom as you have 
always proved yourself.” 

" Guy, I wish you would get over that. I was too 
glad to say so. That is all. Believe me, I could 
not have found a better husband for my sister.” 
Guy grasped the proffered hand. " I was afraid this 
war would take you to the South again. I did not 
dare to ask.” 

"No, Carleton. My blood, not my sentiment, is 
with the South.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


47 


"You can’t test the sails till the wind blows.” 
"That ’s so, my friend,” replied Underwood, sadly. 
" That ’s the lesson of life, and even you are learn- 
ing it at last. But for the war, I ’m not with the 
South, though God forbid that I should ever fight 
against her. I have a great trouble of my own, just 
now, though. I was rich two months ago. Now I 
am poor. Except four or five thousand dollars here 
in the city, I have absolutely nothing. When I 
found it out, I wrote to Mai me. No one knew that 
we were engaged. I told her we must break it off, and 
never say a word of it to a living soul.” 

There were tears in Guy Underwood’s eyes ; but 
Osgood Carleton, more matter of fact, after all, re- 
plied, with blunt energy, " If you believed she ’d 
do it, Guy, you ’re not fit to be her husband.” 

" Never mind what I believed,” Guy replied, 
sharply. " She would n’t do it. You ’ll say, ' Of 
course she would n’t,’ and that’s just what troubles 
me. Why should n’t she? I tell you, Carleton, that 
she should I Then if I pick up and make a man of 
myself, and she has not done better, why, it will be 
time enough to take me up again. But she should 
be free in the mean time, and I want you tell .her so. 
Tell her I mean it I Tell her she must ! ” 

" Hold on there, half a minute,” Osgood interrupted, 
with a pleading gesture. "Guy, your tongue is 
worse than an eight-day clock, when you get your- 
self excited. You go ahead and finish your course, 
and then marry Maime. Thank your stars that she 
said yes, instead of no. And if ever she asks you if 


48 


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you ever thought you loved before, tell her nof 
by all that’s holy ! Sit down, Guy, sit down ; I beg 
your pardon. Look here, I ’ve no idea how much 
money father has ; he always seems to have enough. 
But if it don’t hold out to take you in handsomely 
too, why, you can have my share. You can trust to 
that, so go ahead, and God bless you.” 

But what in the world do you propose to do ? ” 
asked Guy, too much affected to laugh as heartily as 
was his wont, over his friend’s eccentricities. 

Osgood Carleton looked at him for a moment in 
that old, wondering way. He thought the matter 
over silently. Sure enough, what did he propose 
to do ? Then he snapped his fingers and replied, " I 
am going into the army ; that is quite sufficient for 
this month and next.” 

Into the army he went, and found it quite suffi- 
cient for more than one month and more than two. 

Lady Carrie read, with more pride than pain, of 
many a daring adventure of Surgeon Carleton, for 
which from the first he received military distinc- 
tions ; and yet, with a sigh, which argued ill for the 
mistake she was making, she often repeated, " He 
will be one of the stanchest and ‘ truest of men in 
time ; God help him, and keep him from harm !” 

Far out upon the battle-ground Osgood Carleton 
read of the marriage of Sir Edgar Stanley and Carrie 
Ashley. He too sighed, and said, " God bless her 
and keep her from harm ! ” But he realized that the 
memory was very different from that which still lin- 
gered about him in thoughts of the waif of the ceme- 
tery. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


49 


Whether for one or both or neither, he could not 
tell ; but into each battle as it came, he entered with 
a feeling that it were no ill if he should not live to 
see the end of it. It would obliterate the past, if 
nothing more. 

Thus throwing off so much of the past as was pos- 
sible, he plunged deeper and deeper into the life he 
was living. Self-abnegation makes the hero in every 
strife. Unwittingly he became a hero. 

But alas for Lady Carrie, she had no such diver- 
sion. She had made a mistake. Her fears became 
certainties even before the wedding march had ceased 
to echo in her ears. She had expected it. She had 
seen the little cloud, like a man’s hand, in the dis- 
tance, from the very first ; but suddenly it enveloped 
her. Before she was ready to meet it she found her- 
self in the midst of it. The elegance and gallantry 
of her husband vanished for a moment, even as he 
crossed his own threshold. In a sudden vexation he 
cursed one of the servants. She looked at him with 
astonishment. His lips curved in a scornful smile, 
and, bowing very low, he waved her into a magnifi- 
cent drawing-room. ^ 

Guests followed her before she could understand 
the situation ; and, while she endeavored to entertain 
one circle, her husband, in another part of the house, 
was entertaining quite another. 

Guy Underwood was among the guests with the 
Lady Carrie ; and, as he saw everything wherever he 
was, he also sought out the circle that surrounded 
Sir Edgar. 


50 


THE ONLY ONE. 


''Yes, yes,” he observed to himself, "it is quite 
as I thought. This marriage was the goal for which 
he was training. Now that he has won the prize, he 
will no Ioniser be so careful to make a dividing line 
between his two sets of friends. Already he is sur- 
rounded l)y gamblers and drunkards, right in his own 
home, and at his wedding feast. If Carrie Ashley 
does not smart, before long, for shipping Osgood 
Carleton, then I’m not Guy Underwood, that’s all.” 

Three days went by before Sir Edgar met his wife. 
Then he was once more the same pale-faced, rosy- 
cheeked English nobleman whom she had met in the 
city six months before. She received him as though 
he were a stranger. How could it be otherwise? 
But Sir Edgar only smiled, and seated himself with 
easy grace in a great arm-chair before the fire, in his 
wife’s private drawing-room, all decorated in warm 
and rosy pink. 

"My lady will pardon me that I presumed to be 
merry in celebrating my fortunate marriage,” he said, 
and watched her for a moment. His searchins^ 
brown eyes never flinched before her reproachful 
gaze ; but meeting no other response, he added, with 
a low laugh, " Or she will not, as it may happen to 
please her ; it is quite the same to me.” 

"I did it knowingly,” she said, calmly, "the pun- 
ishment is just ; I will bear it.” 

For a moment he was silent. Then smilino^ agfain. 
he said, "My lady, until the veil was drawn away, 
I supposed I had married a wife who would love me, 
and lend me a helping hand.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


51 


Strangely enough, the words stung Lady Carrie as 
a just rebuke. She answered more meekly, "I was 
wrong, Sir Edgar. I will do better in the future.” 

" I have no doubt of it,” he replied, smiling scorn- , 
fully. "But it is remarkably easy to say that one 
will do better by and by.” 

Again she looked up in surprise, but quietly an- 
swered, "I am ready to begin.” 

" That sounds more wifely,” he replied, gently 
stroking his delicate mustache ; " but, while words 
do well enough at the altar, actions speak louder 
afterward.” 

Her cheeks flushed angrily, but she replied, "I 
am waiting to know your will.” 

Calmly he returned her indignant gaze, till her eyes 
fell to the floor before him, and with a shudder she 
realized that he was the master. Then, in those same 
musical tones in which he had wooed her, he con- 
tinued, " It is money which I stand most in need of 
at the present time.” 

She started. " I thought you were rich ! ” she 
exclaimed, involuntarily, and bitterly regretted it 
before the last syllable was spoken. 

"I believe you,” he replied, still smiling; "but 
was that the only thing you ever thought of me in 
which you have found yourself mistaken ? Pray do 
not answer me. I know what you wish to say. But 
we will take no exception here. I am poor. In fact, 

I am penniless. I bought this house simply upon a 
bond, that so soon as I was married I would furnish 
thirty thousand dollars toward mortgages, which 


52 


THE ONLY ONE. 


amply covered everything, furniture and all. At 
noon to-morrow, unless the money is paid, we shall 
have to go home and live with your mother. Would 
you like to ? ” 

"Yes,” said Lady Carrie, faintly. 

" Very well,” he replied, gently, rising and bow- 
ing as gracefully as though taking his leave of a 
stranger. "We had better start by ten, to be out of 
the way at noon. Will that hour please you ? ” 

" It does not please me to go at all ! ” she exclaimed 
angrily. 

" I am quite ready to go with you or stay with you, 
as you like.” He was still bowing and smiling. 

" I will stay. You shall have the money to-day. 
I will drive to the city at once, and — ” 

" Pardon me ; it would be better to see your law- 
yer here.” 

"As it pleases you,” she answered, and turned 
away from him. 

There was not the burden of a falling pin to break 
the silence, but when she looked about her again he 
was gone. The door was closed behind him. 


THE ONLY ONE. * 


53 


CHAPTEE V. 



HE summer wore on into autumn, and the au- 


-I- tumn wore away. To all appearance the Lady 
Carrie had adapted herself to her new position, and 
the classical Sir Edgar was as perfect in complexion, 
as innocent in expression, as refined in action, and as 
indifferent as ever to all the world. 

Only to quiet for a moment the unutterable tor- 
ments, Lady Carrie had allowed herself to be forced 
again into society, when, to her unutterable sur- 
prise, she found herself one of the most envied of 
women. Where only the youth had bowed before to. 
her beauty or her wealth, she found their fathers and 
mothers — yes, and their grandmothers — kneeling 
now, in all the freedom and equality of America, be- 
cause, forsooth, she was the wife of an English noble- 
man. Who would have believed her, had she lifted 
the veil from that skeleton, and betrayed the fact that 
except in society she never exchanged a word with 
the man upon whose arm she leaned with such an 
envied right, beyond a few times when he had sought 
her apartments to demand her gold ? 

When Christmas came, and Stanley Hall was hung 
with holly to honor the good old English custom, for 
the sake of the proprietor. Sir Edgar appeared agaip 
in the little pink drawing-room. 


54 


THE ONLY ONE. 


"I fancied,” he said, "that as this was Christmas 
eve you might have a present for me ; so I remained 
at home to receive it. I had a little money last 
Christmas night, and 1 spent it upon a present for 
you. Now I have not a cent, but instead a heavy 
burden of family expenses. It seems but just that 
you should take your turn.” 

Very gracefully he lit a cigar. 

" You mean that you wish more money,” said Lady 
Carrie, quietly. 

" Between the leisure puflfs of that vexingly fragrant 
cigar, he replied: "No, not exactly that; but such 
an arrangement as shall relieve me of the necessity of 
enduring the unbounded sarcasm which you pile upon 
me whenever I admit that it costs a considerable 
sum to support this establishment.” 

• " Sir Edgar — ” 

He interrupted her. A moment later she was 
thankful. 

"I beg,” said he, "that you will not let your 
tongue run wild with you on Christmas eve. The 
paltry hundred thousand which was made your dower 
was a song that vanished as quickly as yours has. 
You used to sing charmingly, by the way, before we 
were married. I remember the way you smiled upon 
me, and the song you sang to me last Christmas eve. 
You have changed since then. That lawyer of yours 
is a bestial outrage. He lords it here as though he 
owned the whole estate. I feel like damning his 
shadow every time I see it cross the threshold. You 
are determined to keep me poor, because you think 


TIIK ONLY ONE. 


55 


that then you have me in your power. That is a lov- 
ing sentiment, is it not? Now I want you to set 
that lawyer adrift, and put your property in my 
hands. It will he a great saving of commissions.” 

Through it all that perpetual smile had not for a 
moment subsided. He was too languid to stop and 
think if it were always appropriate. He blew a little 
wreath, a perfect little wreath, from his cigar, and 
watched it as it crept away from him, growing fainter 
and fainter, curling over and over upon itself, till a 
passing breath made an oval of it, and then all be- 
came a soft cloud and disappeared. Once more his 
eyes turned to^ward his wife. He was waiting a re- 
ply. Her head was resting on her hand upon the 
marble mantel, and the fire-light gloated over the pale 
face in crimson tints, while it transformed the pink 
drawing-room to a deep and oppressive purple. Her 
hands trembled. Her heart throbbed as though in its 
rebellion it would burst its confines. She seemed 
powerless to move a limb, but the dark eyes flashed 
the fire of indignation which only a strong will pre- 
vented her lips from uttering. At last she lifted her 
head, and with a calmness which astonished even the 
man who sat smoking and smiling before her, she 
replied, -'I cannot do it !” 

"Then I will help you,” he said gently. 

The strong grasp of her will yielded at last, and, 
standing firmly upon her feet, she exclaimed, indig- 
nantly, " I luill not do it ! ” 

" Then I will make you,” he said, with a smile. 

" Sir Edgar,” she spoke defiantly, now that 


56 


THE ONLY ONE. 


restraint no longer held her back, and he vainly en- 
deavored to interrupt her, ” more than the entire 
income of my estate you have had and used as you 
saw fit. It is ten times more than you can possibly 
spend upon this house. I am only a girl, and for 
fear of the sacred vows with which I swore to be your 
wife, but never for a moment in fear of you^ I have 
yielded to many a demand, and am still ready to 
yield. But do not think that because I am only a 
girl, I am incapable of understanding you, and of 
withstanding, too, if the case require. I am ready to 
leave you as I came, and to support you through life 
as the price of my liberty. I am ready to live for 
you here, and serve you. But neither will satisfy 
you. At last you have reached the point to which 
you have been bending me ; but you find it one step 
too far. I will not follow you.” 

Sir Edgar rolled his cigar completely wDver in his 
lips before he answered her, and then his answer was 
only a smile ; a quiet, almost a gentle smile. " It 
will be more annoying,” he thought, "than if I speak 
just now,” and he was right. 

Long after he was gone Lady Carrie stood at the 
window, looking out upon the broad, cold lawn, 
where the snow lay like a shroud, and the wind 
wailed a solemn dirge through the bare branches. At 
la^t she faintly murmured, " Till death us do part.” 

The words had hardly sounded when she turned 
suddenly from the window, pressed her hands over 
her eyes, looked long and earnestly into the glowing 
fire, as though reviewing there some new position, 


THE 0^iLY ONE. 


57 


and, with a gleam of victory and triumph in her eyes, 
exclaimed, "Till death us do part ! Yes, yes ! Till 
death us do part. Strange that I never thought of 
that before, but I will act upon it now. Yes, I act 
to-morrow, even though it be Christmas day. Yes- 
terday I would have given it all to him, and let him 
place me in the street, naked and starving, if he 
chose. But now it is too late. I will not do it ! He 
shall never see that gold. I am bound by no prom- 
ise after death shall have parted us. Till then I will 
bear the punishment of my folly, and God help me I 
will not rebel ; but when he has tortured me to death 
and set me free, then I will, — yes, I will be re- 
venged ! ” 

Sir Edgar devoted a week to comparative gentle- 
ness, in hope of melting the ice that had gathered be- 
tween them in that last cold storm. Then he gave 
up the struggle with the grim comforter, " I shall not 
see her money while she lives, but there is one way 
left me yet. I must have it and I will.” 

Sir Edgar Stanley never appeared again in the 
little pink parlor. His field now lay in another 
quarter. ^ 


58 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTEK VI. 

L enten season passed by. It was but natural 
that one so strict as the wife of an English 
nobleman must be should not be seen mingling in 
festivities. No one remarked as strange the fact 
that the face of Lady Carrie was not present in the 
parlor, on the drive, or at the opera. Her mother 
had gone abroad, and, living so far from the city, it 
was but natural that few should seek her out during 
the disagreeable spring weather. The few who did 
call were told by the servant that the Lady Carrie was 
ill, and asked to be excused. Spring came and went 
in all its misery and beauty, and the summer ap- 
proached ; but having once been missed without ex- 
clamation, it was not so openly remarked as it might 
have been, that the wife of Sir Edgar was still absent 
from society. One by one the friends whose circum- 
stances allowed had called without seeing her, and 
their cards remained in the great bronze receiver in 
the hall until Sir Edgar saw fit to lessen the col- 
lection by throwing a handful into the fire. But the 
calls were never acknowledged. Some thought it 
appropriate to be offended at the slight, others of- 
fered excuses to themselves, and she was allowed to 
rest in peace, almost if not quite forgotten by the 
great majority. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


59 


And again the cold winds of November were sigh- 
ing about the angles of the Stanley mansion, and the 
tall trees and the lovely shrubs that bore the warmer 
touch of summer-time so gracefully were trembling 
before the ruder hand of the North. Their garnish 
of green lay in a dry, brown drabble about their feet. 
Naked and knotty and gnarled, with nothing to cover 
their deformities, they swayed this way and that 
before the whim of the whirling, wind. There were 
but two servants of the Stanley mansion who ever 
saw 'the mistress. The others only knew that she 
was ill. No physician came to investigate the malady 
and experiment upon it ; for it was a peculiar case, 
which medical science had not yet touched upon. 
She had no pain for which their drugs were a 
panacea. There was nothing the surgeon’s knife 
could have removed, that would have relieved the 
suffering. 

She sought in vain for some explanation from the 
rude man and ruder woman who were constantly near 
her in the capacity of servants. They may have been 
nurses from some hospital. She had never seen them 
till she came to consciousness from a sudden fever 
which followed close upon Christmas day. More 
than once she demanded that they summon her hus- 
band ; but they always replied that he was away from 
home. She applied every resource to discover some 
means of communication with the outside world ; but 
every endeavor was frustrated, whether she knew it 
or not, by the watchful eyes of the strangers. In her 
own home, guarded by servants who were bribed and 


60 


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paid from her own open purse, she was a prisoner 
beyond the power of pleading for pardon, beyond 
the possibility of rendering a ransom. 

Too weak to struggle, too ill and indifferent to re- 
sent the wrong when she fully realized its magnitude, 
too helpless to defy the arm that held her after she 
had once felt its power, she sank into the chains as 
one, when sinking in the brigand sea, throws up his 
arms, and yields the struggle even before the. waves 
have covered him. She surrendered to the tide, 
that it might bear her so much the more easily, 
lacking resistance, almost hopefully waiting for the 
end, with that refrain of freedom on her lips, '' Till 
death us do part.” 

She found one very firm friend, however, to share 
her bondage. It was a huge St. Bernard dog. He 
was also a stranger, and but another guard,, no 
doubt ; but the dumb beast could not be bought with 
gold or bribed with promises. He eagerly accepted 
the friendship which she offered him, and day and night 
was by her side. Sometimes a vague thought of at- 
tempting to escape entered her mind ; but the thin, 
white hands lay helplessly in her lap. The sunken 
cheeks, reflected in the mirror, asked, " For what 
would you escape ? Death is on the way, coming as 
friend. The chains will be broken by a stronger 
hand than that which holds them. The ransom will 
soon be paid in a coin that must at once be satis- 
factory and complete.” And with a sigh she would 
turn again to the task of waiting. 

At times, when the will became weary with its long 


THE ONLY ONE. 


61 


and incessant watching, and nature rose in defiance, 
she would exclaim, ” Sir Edgar’s torture is driving 
me mad ! ” She even wondered if she were not al- 
ready mad. But reason came again, and asserted 
that the surest way to accomplish precisely that ob- 
ject would be to perplex herself with thoughts like 
this. 

Thus this strange, unearthly waiting brought Christ- 
mas eve again. The old woman spoke of it by acci- 
dent, or it might have passed like every other eve, 
and the morning dawned like every other morning, 
notwithstanding it was Christmas day ; for the sad, 
unreal shadow had nearly reached the threshold that 
would usher her beyond the confines of days and sea- 
sons, and she took but little interest in the turns of 
time. Just why she was dying she did riot know ; 
she had simply taken it for granted. She had be- 
lieved her mirror, believed her senses, believed her 
own desire to die, and daily and hourly grown weaker 
and fainter. 

During her unconsciousness she had been re- 
moved to an old wing of the house, farthest from the 
street and the main building, and most hidden among 
the naked branches. She cared but little. Indeed, 
she had hardly left her bed for several weeks. 

The old woman stayed longer than usual in the room 
this Christmas eve. Almost tenderly she arranged 
the clothes and smoothed the pillow. With that start- 
ling perception of one nearing eternity. Lady Carrie 
looked up and asked, "Do you think I shall die to- 
night?” She smiled faintly. But the old woman 


62 


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shuddered, turned abruptly from the bed, and stood 
by the window. 

The winter wind wailed fearfully. She shrank 
from it, and, returning to the bed, she asked in a 
coarse, husky voice, ” Do ye reely want ter die ? ” 

” I am quite ready,” replied the pale lips, without 
a tremor. 

"Would n’t ye rather live?” asked the woman. 

Lady Carrie answered, "No.” 

The man’s rude voice sounded at the door. With 
an oath he ordered the woman to come out. 

" I don’t blame ye, miss,” muttered the woman, 
bending low over the pillow, — so low that the shadow 
beneath the coverlid trembled and shrank away. 
" I ’m beyond a helpin’ ye, yer beyond a wantin’ help. 
Yes, girl, ye’ll die the night. Make ready, make 
ready. The angels ’ll come fur ye in a chariot of fire.” 
She shuddered again. " Oh, miss, had I ’a’ had my 
senses earlier, all hell ’d not ’a’ drove me to it. But 
sure ’s this heart o’ mine beats a day longer, there ’ll 
somebody smart for it. Mark that, miss, and die 
easy.” 

Again a fearful oath sounded, and this time the 
door was held open. The woman was gone, and only 
a faint memory of her strange words remained. 

" So I shall die to-night,” repeated Lady Carrie in 
a faint whisper, and the huge St. Bernard, standing 
by the bed, whined piteously arid moved uneasily 
from side to side. 

The door opened again. Some one whistled for 
the dog. A pang of regret made the faint heart ache. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


63 


But the dog was more wilful than the woman. His 
answer was oniy a long, low growl. 

" Come here ! ” shouted the hoarse voice. 

The dog looked at the bed. The white hand 
moved to call him nearer. He obeyed. ’ 

The man entered the room. He was the sum of 
all that is basest and most brutish in this wmrld. 
W henever he appeared the frail sufferer trembled. 
He approached the dog cautiously, for the animal 
lay ominously silent, and with no intent to move. 
He struck his cane upon the floor, and repeated his 
command. There was no response. He struck the 
dog, and suddenly found his cane held fast in the 
creature’s powerful jaws. He left it there, and went 
out. Soon the wmman returned with a piece of meat, 
laid it before him, and silently retreated. The door 
was closed and locked. As the key turned, the 
prisoner distinctly heard the same hoarse voice say 
to some one without, The poison will quiet him,” 
and the rest was lost. But the *dog dropped the 
cane, turned his back upon the treacherous offering, 
and lay in the moonlight, looking up at his mistress. 

A strange shudder crept over her. She spoke 
softly to the dumb animal. "’Tis poisoned,” she 
said, "because you have befriended me. They 
know, poor fellow, that I shall die to-night. But 
you will w^atch with me.” 

Did he understand? He moved uneasily, and 
breathed in a low, half-smothered whine. He put 
his forepaws gently upon the bed, and licked the 
white hand that lay exposed. It was too weak to 


64 


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caress him ; but he seemed to realize the fact, and 
only fondled it the more tenderly. 

An hour went by, but it moved slowly, burdened 
and clogged in its way with strange wonderings. 
There was something evil in the air. Was it only 
because she was to die that night? A distant bell 
tolled slowly and hoarsely. It was eleven o’clock. 
She had never heard that bell before, yet the wind, 
as it howold about the window, would almost 
have drowned the voice of one standing beside it. 
Restlessly the dog paced up and down the room ; 
nervously he stopped each time he passed the window 
to rest his paws upon the sill and look out. Then he 
would utter a low, faint cry and return to the bed 
again. Lady Carrie closed her eyes, but sleep 
seemed far from her. She wondered why ; and, 
to still the strange feelings creeping over her, she 
whispered, " I am only to die to-night, and it is 
till death us do part, and no longer. The fault was 
more mine than his in the beginning, and for all 
since then I forgive him with all my heart.” And 
still some horrible mystery seemed breathing about 
her. In vain she closed her eyes to sleep, — to die. 
Shudder after shudder followed the blood as it trem- 
bled from her heart. 

The dog stood with his forepaws upon the bed, 
looking into her eyes as though he knew that she 
would die that night. She felt his warm breath upon 
her cheek ; it seemed to grow warmer and warmer, 
till suddenly she realized that she instead was grow- 
ing colder. She tried to draw the blankets closer 


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65 


about her, but they were too heavy. She could not 
move them. Suddenly then it came to her that 
she was dying. The hand fell upon the coverlid. 
No more exertion was necessary. She breathed a 
deep sigh of relief. She turned with an effort, and 
laid her thin hand upon the furry head bending over 
her. Just that poor life had braved the wrath of her 
tormentors to see her and pity her, and be with her 
when she died. 

”God bless you,” she whispered. Gently he 
touched her cheek with the . tip of his tongue, as 
though he understood the prayer, and were grateful 
for it, regardless of the theology which exorcised him 
from the blessings of the great Being who had given 
him a heart, even though he had clothed it in a coat 
of fur. Surely if he knew that she were dying he 
must have known, too, that he was only a dog; but 
with almost a human moan he laid his head upon the 
pillow. 

Slowly but surely it became evident to the sufferer 
that her heart was beating more faintly, hesitating, 
ever and again, as though it were almost unnecessary 
to make the struggle. She tried to speak, but her 
tongue failed to obey. It had already lost its power. 
She looked into the gentle eyes of the great St. Ber- 
nard. They were fixed upon her in inexpressible pity. 
Yet as she looked they seemed sinking farther and 
farther away from her. Another sense was failing. 
She realized it without a pang. Soft music sounded 
in her ears. Figures, all clothed in white, were 
gathering about her. Faces of the lost, the unforgot- 


66 


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ten, were smiling upon her as she sank to rest. She 
could almost hear the rustle of their garments, al- 
most touch their outstretched hands. 

” Mother ! mother ! ” came in faint breath, more a 
deep thought than spoken word, as a long-lost face 
bent nearer than the rest. And while her limbs 
grew cold in death, an ethereal summer was thawing 
the icy chill. Dying was not so hard as she had 
thought. Dying ! It was ecstasy ! Dying was 
heaven, and heaven was fairer as she looked into 
the pearly gates from such a lonely and forsaken 
pillow. The white-robed friends were dearer be- 
cause there was no earthly tie to sever. The welcome 
would be unmarred by a farewell. And that peace 
of God, which passeth all understanding, seemed so 
real and near to her that in it the ills of life and the 
terrors of death were alike nothing. 

Slowly and painfully the distant clock tolled the 
spirit’s hour. 

Lady Carrie heard every stroke, and even from 
the gate she turned to remember that it was Christ- 
mas day ; but she no longer mourned or wondered 
over the mystery and misery of the past. 

Was it only the tolling of the bell which startled 
the St. Bernard? With a low growl, very unlike 
his previous whining, he turned from the bed. Lady 
Carrie would fain have called him back, for she 
feared she might die before he returned. But the 
dog was too eager upon something else to notice the 
feeble movement of her hand. He growled again, 
sniffed wildly in the air, sprang to the window, then 


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67 


turning again leaped upon the bed. His weight 
might easily have crushed her, but a gentleness un- 
explicable guided his feet with almojS superhuman 
care. Eagerly he threw off the covering, and, with 
the night-dress in his teeth, he drew the frail figure 
gently to the very edge of the bed. There he left 
her, and, calling with a voice that was almost human, 
he walked slowly backward toward the window. 
A strange and pungent odor penetrated her be- 
wildered senses. A red glow tinged the white moon- 
light in the room, and then overcame it. A column 
of brilliant smoke rose before the window. 

Like one waking from a deep sleep, Lady Carrie 
lay and watched these strange incidents, at first as 
though they had no part whatever for her, but were 
only an interval, something to amuse her on the way. 
She would have turned and left them, for the other 
dreams were more delightful ; but the dog came 
again, and, catching her dress, roused her once more. 

Suddenly the words of the old nurse came back to 
her, ” The angels will come for you in a chariot of 
fire.” 

In an instant all the failing senses were summoned 
back again. She realized it all. She had been 
placed in that lonely wing to be burned to death. 
Apparently, at that last moment, a flame of earthly 
will fired the heart which had borne all before, and 
almost ceased its beating at the command of her 
master. Was it a supernatural strength which 
thrilled each nerve, or was it only a strange and ill- 
understood mastery of the will ? She rose from the 
bed, and tottered toward the windov/. 


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THE ONLY ONE. 


" Could he not have waited one hour more for me 
to die ? ” she asked herself, wonderingly. ” Am I to 
be murdered ? Help ! Help ! Will no one save 
me?” The St. Bernard howled as the flames rose 
higher before the window. 

'' I will not die like this,” she moaned, and shrank 
away from the heat already penetrating the glass. 
" I have knelt for him to kill me ; I have lain at his 
feet without a murmur, but I will not die like this. 
Mother ! Mother ! Have you gone from me now, when 
I need you most ? ” She turned again to the window. 
It was bolted down, and was already heated by 
the fire. Desperately she tried the door. It would 
not yield. 

Mercy ! Mercy ! ” she shrieked, dragging upon 
the knob. ” Tell him I will do it. Tell him I will 
do it ! ” She turned suddenly from the door, and 
clutching her hair in both hands, as it fell in heavy 
masses over her shoulders, she cried, " What am I 
saying? What? I would do it? No I Never I 
Never ! Never ! I will not do it.” 

With a wild shriek she staggered back, as the glass 
of the window burst with the heat, and a quivering 
tongue of fire shot through the aperture. 

The St. Bernard stood silently beside her now. 
He neither moved nor cringed as the flames swept in. 
They caught the curtains, they danced upon the 
heated sill, they flashed along the floor, they rollicked 
in the bed drapery. It was scarcely a moment before 
the room was a mass of flame. 

" Heaven help ! ” the prisoner gasped. ” I will not 


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69 


die like this ! I — I — I — will — I — no, no — will 
not — ” The flames had caught her breath, their 
grasp had strangled her. She fell helplessly for- 
ward, and, true to the last, though his furry coat was 
singed with fire, the motionless St. Bernard broke 
the fall, and the frail form of the emaciated sufierer 
lay unconsciously across his powerful shoulders, her 
hands clutching desperately in the long hair on his 
throat. 


70 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTEE VIL 

T he old wing of the Stanley mansion was utterly 
destroyed by fire that Christmas morning. The 
master of the house was miles away at the time, and 
people said,, ” How sad, how very sad, that the lovely 
Lady Carrie should have chosen that quarter of the 
house, and thus have perished in the flames ! ” 

At the last ceremonials Sir Edgar paid such 
elaborate tribute to his wife, and was himself so ter- 
ribly afilicted, that many a true heart wondered how 
it was compatible with the goodness of God to sever 
so soon and so cruelly two hearts united in such 
tender love. 

Guy Underwood attended the funeral, though upon 
no friendly terms wdth Sir Edgar. He listened as 
the clergyman, in soul-wringing eloquence, recorded 
the virtues of the dead. He heard the prayer, in 
which the rhetorical man of God informed his Maker 
what an acquisition he had just gained in the heav- 
enly hosts. The sobbing was very loud about the 
room. Something impelled Guy to open his eyes. 
Inadvertently they rested upon Sir Edgar. From 
behind a black-bordered handkerchief Sir Edgar was 
watching him intently. His eyes fell instantly, but 
it was just that instant too late. 

” Why was he looking at me in that way ? ” Guy 


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71 


asked himself. Surely it was not for sympathy ; 
no, it was suspicion ; it was fear ; he is not mourn- 
ing ; he is trembling with fear ; he was afraid that I 
suspected something, something about this funeral ; 
now he is sure of it ; I will not undeceive him ; on 
the contrary, I will discover.” . 

He was. quite right. Sir Edgar had not been at- 
tentive to the sobs or the eloquence. He was think- 
ing of the man and the woman whom he had paid 
with lavish hand to keep the blood-stains from his 
own delicate fingers. He was disturbed ; for since 
the fire they had not appeared to claim, the last 
reward. 

" The woman is a trump,” he said to himself, as 
the sobbing was loudest. " She knows when to hold 
her tongue ; but the man is a blockhead. I am not 
sure of hjm. I wonder if the woman would kill him 
too for another five thousand. He may get himself 
drunk some day, and tell it all,” he shuddered. "He 
could not have told — I wonder why in the world 
that infernal Underwood is here to-day ! ” That 
was the moment when he glanced from behind his 
handkerchief, when their eyes met, when he hid his 
face again and shuddered, under the conviction that 
Guy Underwood did know or suspect more than 
was wise. 

The clergyman said "Amen.” The service ended, 
the coffin was laid in the grave, the snow fell over it 
in a spotless sheet, no footprints marred it, no tears 
disturbed it, and Lady Carrie was forgotten. 

Why not ? Sir Edgar had other things to think of 
after the funeral. 


72 


THE ONLY ONE. 


The first step which he took, so soon as was by 
any means compatible with his black-bordered sor- 
row, w^as to call upon the lawyers in order to place 
himself at once in possession of the coveted wealth. 
He was going away to England to stanch his bleed- 
ing heart in his own native land. That was excuse 
enough for haste. 

The lawyer received him in a manner less subser- 
vient than the nobleman fancied. Hence he explained 
his errand in a fashion even more dictatorial than 
was his wont. The lawyer looked at him ; half 
amused, half surprised, half suspicious, perhaps. 
Sir Edgar was a curious combination. He looked 
like a saint with a soul as white as his forehead, yet 
he looked like a sinner beyond anything but the re- 
pentance of the dying thief. His delicate fingers, 
with little dimples at the joints, might have been sail- 
ing a toy-boat upon a bubbling brook, or they might 
after all be grasping a serpent down among the 
slums. The lawyer looked him over carefully, lis- 
tened to what he said, and then suggested that he 
engage an attorney to represent him. Sir Edgar’s 
delicate lips curved gracefully about a fearful oath as 
he informed the lawver that he did not come to him 
for advice. 

" The law moves slowly, to prevent mistakes,” re- 
plied the other. 

" But I am in haste,” said Sir Edgar. ” Eemem- 
ber, you are not dealing now with a credulous 
woman. Your actions must be accounted for, and 
the results must correspond.” 


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73 


The lawyer turned from him sharply, and began to 
write. 

Sir Edgar hesitated a moment, and then more 
calmly asked, " How soon do you propose to settle 
with me the estate of Lady Carrie ? ” 

” When the will of the late Mrs. Stanley has 
passed I will send you word,” the lawyer replied 
without looking up. 

"The will?” he asked, in a wondering way. 

"The will of the late Mrs. Stanley,” replied the 
lawyer, quietly. 

" She left no will ! ” exclaimed Sir Edgar. 

"You are mistaken, sir.” 

Then Sir Edgar’s rage broke all bounds. " If there 
is a will,” he cried, " you made it ! It is a forgery ! ” 

" That does not follow,” replied the lawyer, smil- 
ing, bowing, and opening the office door. " You have 
forofotten that in this State women have some individ- 
ual and very appropriate rights in the disposal of 
their own property. With the exception of less than 
one hundred thousand dollars, Mrs. Stanley’s property 
was all in real estate ; and, though she was a credulous 
woman, she took what I begin to think was a very 
wise precaution, in so arranging her will that only 
what the law necessitates should fall to you. Good 
morning. ” 

Sir Edgar’s step was not so firm as he went down 
the stairs. His wife had outwitted him. His labor 
was lost. Her death had cost him a fortune. 

Upon the street he met Guy Underwood. Guy 
had opened a little office, and was struggling to regain 


74 


THE ONLY ONE. 


what he had lost by the war, while his interest in 
problematic characters was as intense as ever, and 
Maime was impatiently waiting for him to be satis- 
fied that he had proved to himself his power to be a 
man in spite of no money. Guy hailed Sir Edgar as 
he would have hailed an opportunity to have wit- 
nessed a novel operation at the hospital. Sir Edgar 
was in no mood for this meeting ; but Guy was be- 
side him, had even taken his arm, and he dared not 
shake him ofi*. 

^'What a pity,” said Guy, 'Hhatlife cannot always 
be as bright as the sunshine to-day.” 

" Life is a fraud ! ” growled Sir Edgar. 

" So it is ; that is, we who live it are frauds.” 

Their eyes met for an instant, and each came to a 
conclusion. 

"Life would not be a fraud,” Guy continued, "if 
we were all as true as your wife. Sir Edgar.” 

Sir Edgar made no reply. Guy was not satisfied 
with the progress he wcVinaking, and to gain time to 
consider a new move he repeated a remark he had 
once made to Osgood Carleton, " I know of but one 
woman who is her equal.” 

" Who may she be ? ” asked Sir Edgar, eager to 
change the subject of their conversation. 

" The lady to whom I hope to be married,” Guy 
replied, carelessly. "By the way, you must have 
made fabulous sums yesterday and to-day, in the tre- 
mendous rise in gold stocks.” He referred to the 
Lady Carrie’s Californian mine interests. 

Sir Edgar looked at him sharply an instant, and 
muttered, "Yes.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


75 


" I wonder how the unfortunate fire started,” he 
ventured, a moment later. 

don’t know,” Sir Edgar replied abruptly, and, 
turning down a side street so unexpectedly that even 
Guy was not quick enough to prevent it, he walked 
away alone. 

/^If you did not know you would find out,” Guy 
muttered, standing there and looking after him. 
As Sir Edgar turned the distant corner he looked 
back, and again their eyes met. The distance between 
them made but little difference. Each again drew 
his own conclusions. 

Sir Edgar’s in the first place decided him to leave 
the will unmolested. It might be dangerous to rake 
those embers in a court of law. It was fear of Guy 
Underwood that forced him to this conclusion. His 
second was that Guy Underwood should sufier for it. 
He fell to thinking of what Guy had said about the 
only one who stood nearer his ideal than the Lady 
Carrie. He had seen the young doctor with a pretty 
blonde, whom he knew to be the daughter of his 
friend, Amos Carleton, and thereupon he began to 
form a plot. 

And Guy? He was far away, bending anxiously 
over a little child suflfering the tortures of fever. It 
was only a charity patient, but that did not signify. 
Thanks from such people were better than gold to 
him. He had entirely forgotten Sir Edgar. 


76 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTEE VIII. 

UT upon the battle-field Osgood Carleton was 



V_y still the hero of self-abnegation, and time 
moved swiftly that had else lain heavily on his 


hands. 


" Men are strange creatures,” he often said to him- 
self. ”No wonder Guy loved to study them. I 
could almost believe with Matthew Arnold, they are 
such wonderful beings.” 

The soldiers were gathering about the camp-fires 
for the night, as he wandered slowly down the long 
line. Many of the men were already stretched at 
lengfh upon the ground. Some were sitting by the 
fires, writing last letters home, before the battle — 
possibly for all eternity. Those who were still awake 
rose to salute him as he passed, for not a soldier in 
the ranks but found a warm heart-throb for the self- 
sacrificing man. 

A man sat almost alone by a smouldering fire. A 
late paper lay upon his knee. He had finished read- 
ing, and was about to roll his blanket around him for 
the night. Dr. Carleton sat down beside him, and 
borrowed his paper. The soldier went to sleep the 
happier for having done even so slight a favor to the 
Brigade Surgeon Carleton. 

It was from the great city where he had studied 


THE ONLY ONE. 


77 


medicine. He read the city news carelessly, and 
turned the paper. The firelight flickered with fearful 
distinctness over the great black headings of the sec- 
ond column, containing a painfully explicit account 
of the death of the wife of Sir Edgar Stanley. The 
blow was sudden. The sentry was asleep. Osgood 
Carleton groaned. 

"Is Carrie Ashley gone?” he repeated, in that old 
wondering way. What a blank it seemed to leave in 
life to know that she was gone. Then suddenly he 
turned upon himself, as who should say, " I thought 
it was Kittie Cosgrove, and now ? ” It was inexplica- 
ble. He did not even try to solve it. All that was 
left him of either was the lesson he had learned that 
there was something deeper in love than the passing 
fancy of the hour, just as there is more to the brook 
than the ripple on the surface ; but what it was he did 
not know, and had little expectation that he should 
ever discover. 

As the eastern horizon grew gray again, and the 
ideal phantoms faded before the facts of daylight, 
the army rose with that deep, mufiled rumble, and 
in the uncertain light Dr. Carleton laughed a scorn- 
ful, bitter laugh, such as one is only capable of laugh- 
ing when he realizes fully what a fool he can make of 
himself, and from the sleepless vigil he turned for 
another day. Once more he was only what men saw 
at the moment. The only change of the night was 
that he was more firmly than ever resolved to be just 
that forevermore — a man in the abstract — like a 
fleck of dust floating about the room, up and down at 


78 


THE ONLY ONE. 


the will of a shadow, ignorant, but only apparently 
independent of the great law of gravitation. 

And in all his philosophy there was no warning 
hand to point out the fact that this was even a more 
absurd and foolish step than any he had taken 
before. 

Thus for six months more he moved about his little 
world ; not in it. Men, great men, saw, admired, 
and praised his skill and bravery. He stood upon 
the threshold of the highest position which could be 
conferred upon a surgeon in the United States Army. 
What did he care for it? Nothing. 

Women, beautiful women, often frequenting head- 
quarters, saw, admired, and praised. What did he 
care for it? Nothing. 

So fearlessly did that stern face appear, wherever 
there were men to die or be kept from death, that 
among the superstitious there were some who posi- 
tively believed that Dr. Carleton was possessed of a 
charmed life. But there came a time when this su- 
perstition was disproved. The bullet moulded for 
him went upon its way at last. His almost lifeless 
body was carried to the hospital tent, and thence, a 
few weeks later, to Baltimore, where he could receive 
more skilful treatment. 

When he opened his eyes to realize his surround- 
ings, it was with pettish disgust that he looked 
through the open door of his private room to find the 
long corridors beyond swimming before his eyes, a 
vague line of women ; nurses moving here and there 
among the cots. He shut his eyes and turned his 


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79 


head away when the nurse to whose care he was in- 
trusted entered the little room. She asked him a 
question, in a voice that was soft and musical and 
low. He did not even listen to what she said; he 
simply shook his head, and wished she would go away 
again. 

She gently moved his pillow, bathed his forehead, 
smoothed the coverlid, and gave him a bit of good 
news from the front. 

When she had gone away he opened his eyes again, 
and wondered what she had looked like. There were 
two nurses standing at a little distance. It must 
have been one of them. " If it was that one with a 
blue ribbon in her hair, then the sooner I die the 
better,” he muttered with a sigh. ” The other with 
black hair and a red ribbon will do better. She ’s a 
ghastly thin, white creature. I’d as soon have a 
ghost for a nurse. I think I shall like her. She is 
a peculiar creature. She might be twenty or she 
might be fifty. Why does n’t she look this way ? 
Heavens ! What horrible great things her eyes are, 
ugh ! I hope she ’ll not come near to me again.” This 
little line of fretful speculation thoroughly overcame 
him, and he fell asleep, wishing she would come and 
bathe his forehead once more. 

A disagreeable dream was running away with him. 

” Are you waking, doctor ? ” 

He opened his eyes. It was the black-haired 
nurse, with the red ribbon and the great eyes and 
ghastly face. No wonder his dreams were rude. He 
shut his eyes instantly. "It was only a dream,” he 
muttered, and turned as far away as possible. 


80 


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"It is time for your medicine,” she said, in a voice 
that had music enough in it to have soothed a savage. 
But the patient only moved his hand pettishly, and 
murmured, — 

" Oh, go away with your medicine ! My life is not 
worth saving.” 

" Oh, this medicine is not to save your life, doctor ! 
You are not going to die. They say there is not the 
slightest danger. This is only to make you a little 
better natured,” she replied. 

He knew she was laughing at him. But all was so 
very still afterward that he felt sure she had gone 
away. He was almost sorry. He opened his eyes. 
She was still there with the bottle and spoon. He 
was angry. 

"Are you never going away?” he asked. 

"Not till you have taken this medicine,” she re- 
plied as gently as before. 

" Then give it to me quickly,” he muttered, and 
shut his eyes and opened his mouth. He heard her 
replace the cork in the bottle, and knew she was 
making a note of the time on the slip of paper be- 
neath it, and another on the tablet hanging at her 
waist. It was the old routine of the ward. He had 
seen it through a thousand times while he had stood 
over the patients. That done, she would of course 
turn away. 

"My head aches,” he muttered, without opening 
his eyes. 

She took the gentle hint at once, and while she 
bathed his forehead he fell asleep again. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


81 


" She looks like a ghost, but she acts like an angel, 
he observed one day, when he had crept a little far- 
ther away from the grave, and could look at matters 
with a little more common-sense. 

The relief nurse was a horror to him. He had not 
been at all delicate in saying just that, after his first 
night of consciousness, when he had lain and quietly 
longed to die to be out of her way. Now that he 
observed a little more of his surroundings he 'realized 
that since then she had never been near his bed, 
except when she came as assistant. Call when he 
would, day or night, the dark hair and the red 
ribbon always appeared. The next time she came 
he asked her when she went off duty. 

"Never, while there is duty to be done,” she re- 
plied, smiling, " but unfortunately I am not very 
strong. They tell me I shall not be here much 
longer. I shall find you a new nurse pretty soon.” 

" No, no ! I’d rather die ! ” Dr. Carleton exclaimed, 
raising himself with difficulty upon his elbow\ 

"You will change your mind when I tell you,” she 
replied. " Your sister wrote to the hospital a w^eek 
ago that she was coming to Baltimore. She said 
that she would be here to-day or to-morrow.” 

"What is the matter with you?” Dr. Carleton 
asked, looking anxiously into her face for almost the 
first time, and w^ondering that he had never before 
noticed how haggard and thin and white it w^as. 

"Nothing, only a little overwork.” 

He shook his head doubtfully. " If I w^ere you I 
would leave the hospital within an hour. Where do 
you live?” 


82 


THE ONLY ONE. 


She hesitated. ” I have no home. I am one of 
those convenient beings made expressly for nurses.” 

" Then you should go at once to Philadelphia, to 
the — hospital. You’re — No, no, I don’t know 
what is the matter with you, but I think — I am 
sure you cannot go too soon. I ’ve been blind not to 
see it before. -A friend of mine is at the head of the 
hospital, and I know it to be the best place in 
America for — for — why, yes, of course, for you or 
any one else who needs to be taken care of. What 
is your name? Write it down on that paper for me, 
and when I am sitting up this afternoon I will dictate 
a letter to him.” 

" My name is Kate Ashley. It is so simple that you 
can remember it without writing,” she replied, and 
replacing the tablet, arranged the bottles and pre- 
pared to go away. Possibly the professional eye of 
the nurse detected that the pale face was even 
whiter than before, if that were possible ; for she 
turned again, adding in the same gentle voice, ” I 
have wearied you with my talking. I should have 
known better. Now I will bathe your forehead to 
atone for it, and you must forget all that we have 
talked about.” 

” And you will go to that hospital ?. ” 

Yes, I will go so soon as your sister comes.” 

Dr. Carleton looked up suddenly. ”What has 
that to do with you ? Go to-day, if you value your 
life. Go, whether you do or not. Save it for the 
good it has done to others.” 

"But what will you do in the mean time ? You 


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83 


are so cross that most of the nurses would be afraid 
to come so far as the door,” she replied, attempting 
to smile. 

"I will behave myself. But you must go, cross 
or no cross.” 

” I will go,” she replied, in a hope of quieting the 
patient, w^hose excitement was reaching a dangerous 
point ; and a moment later she was gently bathing the 
forehead, while he lay with his eyes closed, ap- 
parently sleeping. 

He opened his eyes again. " Kate Ashley, did you 
say?” 

" I thought you were sleeping. Yes, Kate Ashley 
is my name. You must not talk,” replied the nurse. 

"No, I will not. I knew some one of that name 
once.” 

The nurse did not reply at once, but seeing that 
there was no probability of sleep she said, a little 
later, " I suspect, from the city where you studied 
medicine, that it might have been the wife of Sir 
Edgar Stanley whom you knew.” 

"No, it was not ! ” he exclaimed, fiercely, "it was 
Miss Carrie Ashley whom I knew.” 

"We were distant relatives,” replied the nurse. 
" Poor girl ! I was taught to think her very fortunate ; 
but I have a sort of a feeling in my heart that wealth 
does not do everything in the world for one, after all.” 

Dr. Carleton made no reply. He slept at last, 
and when he woke Maime was beside him. He 
thought of the letter he was to write, but there was 
no necessity. The nurse was already a patient in 


84 


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the Baltimore^ hospital, too ill to be removed. He 
understood it now, how she had held her life for 
nothing, that she might save his. It imparted an 
ambition, the utter lack of which had held him from 
recovery so long. 

Maime, when she understood the whole, willingly 
bestowed her time upon the self-sacrificing woman 
who had saved her brother’s life. While Dr. Carle- 
ton not only devoted . every energy to recovery, but 
every thought which his skill could suggest to the 
unfortunate patient, who would doubtless otherwise 
have been utterly forgotten in the rush and crowd of 
a great hospital, filled from the ghastly tortures of 
the battle-field. 

As the result of all good circumstances combined, 
it was but four weeks later when Maime had her two 
invalids safely quartered at Carleton Cottage. There 
her brother rapidly gathered strength again, but in 
the case of the nurse the last link had almost broken. 
The frail shadow shivered upon the threshold, 
turned, almost reluctantly, and slowly came into the 
world again. 


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85 


CHAPTER IX. 



YER this shadow Osgood Carleton fought only 


for a life at first. It was the deepest debt he 
could have owed to mortal that he was paying in that 
struggle. But in time he realized that an oppressive 
eagerness was endangering his professional skill. It 
was the battle-cry for a fiercer struggle within, a 
struggle such as few men can realize who have not once 
been bitterly vanquished. The thought of loving, of 
dreaming that he loved again, was burdened with un- 
utterable horror. He would have said that it was even 
an impossibility. Yet, as that strange, indefinable 
feeling crept deeper and deeper into his life, he 
literally stood aghast before it, and acknowledged 
that, notwithstanding all through which he had 
passed, the same old impulse was not impossible. 
His first incentive was to fly from it. He remem- 
bered Kate Ashley’s reply, "Always on duty when 
there is duty to be done.” Xo, he would not go away. 

Day after day he watched her slowly gathering 
strength again. He saw the ghastly pallor leaving 
her face, the sunken, haggard look gone from her 
cheeks, and a cold, stern beauty creeping into those 
great, dark eyes. He could scarcely believe himself 
that this was the strange nurse who had bent so 
tenderly over his pillow. 


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"That was her nature ; this is something false,” he 
said to himself. " She looked like a ghost then and 
acted like an angel ; now she is beautiful as an angel, 
but she — she — why does she act in this w^ay, as 
though perpetually trying to hold me at arm’s length ? 
Is she afraid that I will feel in duty bound to love her 
because she saved my life? Why should I love 
her ? ” 

Again he struggled with his will to conquer that 
sentiment which is master of the will. Day after 
day, however, the coils became stronger and stronger. 
Life would not seem the blank it had before. In 
spite of himself, in spite of every possible assistance 
afforded by the lady, in spite of everything, it grew 
into him continually that life was worth living, if 
there were such a woman in it for ^whom one could 
live. 

But the deeper the conviction became, the more 
fiercely did Osgood Carleton denounce himself. 
" Whirl about like a butterfly ! ” he would exclaim ; 
" cling to one pretty flower till you are blown away, 
then make for another. No, no ! God forbid that I 
should ever love again ! Why will it so persistently 
cling to me that this woman could fill the past and the 
future of my life with joy? She does not love me. 
Great heavens ! were I to speak of love to her, she 
would spurn me instantly. I know it positively. 
Will not that help me to resist?” 

It v/as night. He was sitting alone in his room. 
He had entirely recovered from his wound. Kate 
Ashley had recovered. There was nothing to keep 


THE ONLY ONE. 


87 


him longer from returning to the army. It was the 
thought of going back that had aroused the bitter 
confession in the secret of his own room, and that 
held him there, hour after hour, through the long 
night, pondering, simply pondering. 

Maime, with a heart full of thoughts of her lover, 
had long been sleeping soundly. But Kate Ashley, 
the silent and cold-hearted, lay sleeplessly upon her 
bed in the next room. 

It was one of those nights in early June when the 
heat is oppressive and the windows opened wide, but 
when the novelty magnifies the noises of the night, 
which a little later pass unheeded. 

Voices sounded through the open window, faintly 
at first, but growing gradually louder. Unwittingly 
Kate Ashley listened to the tones as to some distant, 
soothing music. Two men were conversing upon the 
veranda below. One of them was Amos Carleton, 
the same prodigy of business as of old. It was a 
relief from the thoughts she had been thinking to 
lie there quietly and listen to the voices. She had 
no idea of what they were saying. There is a 
curious charm in such intonations on a summer night ; 
and the innocent disturber of Osgood Carleton’s 
slumbers was being gradually lulled to sleep, when a 
little word, spoken louder than before, suddenly 
roused every drowsy faculty. Trembling with eager 
haste, but silently as a shadow, she crept to the 
window. Eavesdropping ? 

Yes, this nurse from the hospital had suddenly be- 
come an eavesdropper. 


88 


THE, ONLY ONE. 


The picturesque grounds about the cottage lay like . 
a dark island floating in the white moonlight before 
her. It was nature’s first glorious rush into life and 
summer time. 

The Avords from below came clearly and distinctly, 
tell you, Carleton, I mean to carry this thing 
through.” The figure in the window shuddered. 

" Stanley, I ’m a knave, and I know it ! ” said the 
deeper voice. *” But I love my daughter as truly as 
though I were as pure as she ; more, because I have 
fallen so low myself, and if I have the power to pre- 
vent it, I will not see her young life thrown away.” 

A cold, clear, metallic laugh sounded from the 
throat of the other. Then he replied deliberately, 
"You’re rather blunt. But the pot can’t call the 
kettle black, as your aristocrats say, here in America. 
.As if a girl would be throwing herself away to 
leave you as a father to be the wife of an English 
nobleman ! ” 

" None of your confounded impudence, Stanley ! ” 
exclaimed the other excitedly. " I tell you it won’t 
go down to-night. I’m in no mood to be driven. 
Curse it all! I’ve been driven long enough. I’ll 
go by myself in this, if it be go to the devil to pa}^ 
for it. We’re both of us legal criminals; but my 
faults as a father are not to be compared wdth yours 
as a husband, and you know it I ” 

"Damn your quibbles,” said the stronger voice 
calmly. " You would be wasting your wind to try 
and prove the criminal on me. I am an English 
nobleman. But you ! Good heavens ! Where would 


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89 


your daughter stand if I should tell one* half of what 
I know of you? Your wisest course, if you value 
her happiness, look for her respect, or hope to earn 
your own bread outside of State prison, is to come 
to the suggestion I made six months ago, and see 
that the girl marries me. I have given you six 
months, and now I mean to have it done, with you 
or without you. Do you see ? ” 

The voices grew fainter, and the listener in the 
window crept far out upon the veranda roof, sup- 
porting herself by the trellis that would soon be 
covered with trailing vines and lovely flowers which 
passers-by would linger to admire. She was even 
leaning over the frail guard, looking down into the 
faces of the two, who were so busily engaged with 
lower things that neither of them ever thought of 
looking up even so high as the veranda roof. Not a 
word escaped her. 

Amos Carleton spoke, almost in desperation. 
" Stanley ! ” said he, " what I have done I have done 
for my children, I know that I have committed 
crimes. But when my children were little ones, left 
motherless, I was a bankrupt. To save them I 
became a defaulter. To hide it I forged, and to 
cover that I lifted you out of the gutter, and made 
you a counterfeiter. Together we have done the 
rest. I have not spent the money on myself. My 
children did not ask for it. They would rather have 
been poor than have had me do it ; but I could not 
bear the thought of making them beggars so long as 
the price of my own soul alone would keep them 


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rich. My ventures have brought success, and they 
have reaped the benefit. But God in heaven knows 
they will reproach me less, to-morrow, in prison than 
if I add this crime to cover up the rest.” 

” Put on a white necktie and go into the pulpit,” 
said Edgar Stanley, scornfully. 

Mr. Carleton did not heed him, but continued, 
tell you, Stanley, that she loves another man, and that 
if I gave my consent to this, and even commanded her, 
it would do no good. She would not leave him.” 
know better,” said Sir Edgar, calmly. 

” It is so ! Indeed it is ! He is an admirable fel- 
low. He is doing an excellent thing in his profes- 
sion, and is already celebrated. I think they are 
to be married soon.” 

" Never,” Edgar Stanley spoke quietly. 

** Never ! What do you mean ? ” said Amos Carle- 
ton, his voice trembling. 

” What I say. I shall marry her myself,” replied 
the other. 

"Not if she will marry Dr. Underwood ! ” said Mr. 
Carleton, fiercely. 

Again the metallic laugh sounded and the calm 
voice replied, "Fool, Carleton! to think that she 
would rather hang on to such a man. But fool or no 
fool, she shall marry me or you shall suffer. There 
you have it.” 

Kate Ashley remained by the window long after 
the speakers had left the veranda, till a sigh from 
Maime, sleeping in the adjoining room, recalled her. 
She crept to Maime’s bedside. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


91 


''It lies in my power to deliver you, poor girl,” 
she whispered with a deep sigh. ” Yes ! if the 
worst comes — so help me God — I can do it and I 
will ! ” 

The sleeper turned on her pillow, moaning in her 
sleep, and the woman bending over her caught the 
words, "Not yet, Guy, not yet.” 

It seemed almost prophetic. The woman turned 
away with a shudder, and entered her own room. 


92 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTER X. 


S the first tints of dawn touched the distant 



horizon, Kate Ashley crept noiselessly along 
the corridor of Carleton Cottage. A door stood open 
before her, and, through the crack, a faint light shone 
down the hall. As she approached she recognized 
the figure of Osgood Carleton, sitting by a low desk, 
his head bent over it, resting on his hands. He was 
sleeping. 

A shiver shook the dark figure in the hall. She 
caught the balustrade to support herself. Poor 
fellow ! ” she siofhed. " He has been there all nis^ht. 
Now for a moment he has forgotten what life is. I 
would not call him back again, and yet I cannot go 
without seeing him.” 

Her hand trembled, but she rapped gently on the 
door. The sleep was not deep, for Dr. Carleton 
sprang instantly to his feet. He drew his hand ner- 
vously across his eyes as though he thought himself 
still dreaming, and stood for a moment like one 
struck dumb. 

A sharp cringe of intense pain shot across the pale 
face in the door. Unable to move, Kate Ashley 
stood mutely struggling to break the spell. 

With an effort Dr. Carleton roused himself, and, 
crossing the room, extended his hand. ” Pardon me,” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


93 


he said, ” I fell asleep at my desk. Has anything 
happened ? ” 

"Not much,” she replied, hardly touching his 
hand. " Only a foolish whim. But I have had a 
terrible dream. It haunts me so that I fear it is 
making me ill again. Forgive me, I dare not stay 
here another hour. Oh, forgive me, Dr. Carleton ! 
I am only a woman, and women are foolish. I can- 
not explain more to you now. Think me foolish, 
think me mad, but let me go, and do not think that 
I have no heart for the kindness which you and your 
sister have showered upon me, because I am going 
so rudely.” 

"Where are you going?” he asked, bewildered, 
yet realizing beyond a doubt that she was in earnest 
and would go. 

"To New York,” she replied hastily. "I have a 
friend there whom I promised to visit. I must, yes, 
I must take the early train, and I wanted to ask you 
if you would drive me over. My trunk is all packed, 
but I do not need it. I will send for it by and by. 
Will you drive me? Then I can tell you of my 
dream.” 

It was the same soft, sweet voice which he had so 
often heard in the hospital, and which he had longed 
in vain to hear in Carleton Cottage. 

Mechanically he took his hat from the chair where 
he had thrown it the night before, lit a taper, and led 
the way. The lady followed him to the stables, and, 
with hands which were no strangers to a horse, 
assisted, in silence, to harness one of those blooded 


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animals that bore such an important part in sustain- 
ing the name of Amos Carleton for the sake of his 
children. 

A moment more and they 'were upon the road. 
The horse "was madly glad of this sudden release 
from the stable, and the bright sparks flew into the 
gray morning from his well-shod hoofs. 

They were rapidly approaching the city. Dr. 
Carleton looked at his watch. There was time to 
spare. The lady beside him had not spoken. He 
drew the rein. The horse’s pace slackened a little. 

Had not Providence thrown this vision of hope 
across his path, and should he deliberately let it go 
unheeded? He had not sought it. He had even 
shunned it. He thought of what Guy Underwood 
had said, and wished that he had time to find him and 
ask him again what love really was, and how he 
could know that "only one” for whom he could be 
everything, and wdm could be everything to him. 
He drew the reins again, and the horse walked 
leisurely along the road, quite willing to accept the 
change, now that his first enthusiasm had been fully 
gratified. 

Still Kate Ashley did not speak. He looked at 
her. She was far away from him. It w^ould only 
startle her to remind her of the present. Why 
should he speak for himself there? It w^ould only 
be inviting a certain rebuke. He saw it as clearly 
as though the sun had written it in brilliant light 
along the gray morning sky. No, he would let 
the dream vanish as it came, — out of nothing, into 


THE ONLY ONE. 


95 


nothing, — leaving only a pain at the heart to respond 
when memory, that wanton god of vengeance, called 
upon it. 

Yet even as he resolved, he drew the rein again, 
and the horse stood still. 

His companion was so busy with her thoughts 
that she did not appear to notice even this. He 
leaned toward her. It was like raising a knife to 
stab himself. There was poison in the glass. He 
deliberately put it to his lips. He laid his hand on 
hers. It was cold. She looked up. Her eyes were 
even colder than her hand. But the morning was 
breaking, and the soft glow of presage from the east- 
ern horizon fell in charity upon her cheeks. One 
warned him ; the other urged him on. As he 
looked into her face his eyes spoke his heart : but his 
lips only yielded to a compromise between the heart 
and will. 

“ I shall see you again some time ? ” 

It was strange that such a simple question required 
so great an etfort. 

” I trust so,” she replied. But it was the voice of 
Carleton Cottage, not of the hospital. With a sigh 
-he withdrew his hand, touched the reins, and the 
horse started rapidly forward as though heartily 
<rlad that so much at least was over with. 

To his unutterable surprise Kate Ashley extended 
her hand, and, clasping his in an eager and earnest 
grasp, exclaimed, "Thank you, Dr. Carleton. Now, 
listen to me. One who is very dear to you is in 
danger.” There was a passionate earnestness in the 


96 


THE ONLY ONE. 


voice and manner of the speaker, a soul such as Dr. 
Carleton had never dreamed of, beneath that cold and 
calm exterior. But the voice, after all, was so soft 
and low that he again drew the rein, lest he should 
lose a word. It was the most complete transforma- 
tion imaginable. One could not have believed it the 
same woman who spoke now, as Kate Ashley re- 
peated to Dr. Carleton the conversation she had over- 
heard, only sparing the terrible accusations and the 
confessions of his father. ”Your sister’s life-long 
happiness or misery lies in your hands now. For 
her sake, for mercy’s sake, save her ! ” 

Without understanding his father’s bondage. Dr. 
Carleton could not realize the cause for what he 
considered a greatly exaggerated anxiety. Surely it 
could only require that he should warn Maime, to 
thoroughly avert it all. The only shock he felt was 
in the thought that his father should have listened 
for a moment to such a proposal. More out of re- 
spect to the eagerness of his companion than from 
any idea that Maime was in real danger, he replied 
at once, — 

" I give you my promise. Miss Asbley. I will 
save her.” 

Neither spoke for a moment. Then turning. Dr. 
Carleton looked in her face and asked, abruptly, 
” Do you love any one?” 

She started, looked at him in silence for an instant, 
and then slowly shook her head. 

” I am an infidel,” she said. ” I do not so much as 
know, in my heart, what true love is. I have seen 


THE ONLY ONE. 


97 


that it exists. I have seen it between your sister 
and Dr. Underwood. I was afoid for a little while 
that you thought it would be but a proper politeness 
to talk to me of love. Believe me, I know that you 
acted a nobler and truer part when you changed 
your mind. Am I very rude? Yes, love is too sacred 
to speak of it carelessly. I am a miserable sceptic, 
I suppose. I just remember ^that I left upon the 
window-seat in my room a little charm, a lovely little 
chalcedony, in a setting, which fits over the diamond in 
this ring. There is a quaint little rhyme engraved 
upon the two settings, apart on each ; and the charm, 
I believe, is in the secret of that sentiment. It is 
able, I am told, to keep true love inviolate. If you 
find the gem where I think I left it, I wish you 
would keep it for me, unless before we meet again 
you discover what true love is. If so, give it to the 
one you love and who loves you ; and may its charm 
prove all powerful. Now, God bless you, and good 
by ! ” 

Dr. Carleton turned his way again to Carleton 
Cottage, with all its loveliness and all its hidden 
horror. But he was thinking much more of his own 
sorrow than of any uncertain danger which Kate 
Ashley might have imagined was threatening Maime. 
This was not through selfishness, but because he 
realized one much more definitely than he did the 
other. 


98 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTEK XI. 


LL was as still at Carleton Cottage as in the 



great cemetery over the way, when Dr. Carle- 
ton returned. He ehtered the chamber over the 
veranda, and took the charmed chalcedony from the 
window-seat. 

lie was hardly seated again in his own room when 
Maime appeared in her wrapper, to announce the 
startling fact that she had waked to discover that 
their "uest was o^one. 

"'1 did not hear a sound!” she exclaimed. ”It 
must be she has only gone out for a morning walk 
to surprise us. But her trunk is packed, and all her 
clothes are in it. ” 

”I am inclined to think, Maime, that she has gone 
away to stay,” her brother replied. 

” I don’t believe any such thing I ” Maime declared 
vehemently. " Do you suppose that she would have 
gone olf without saying good by to me ? I never in 
all my life met any one whom I liked better, ex- 
cept — except — ” 

She hesitated. Instinctively she felt that Kittie 
Cosgrove was a name which had better not be unne- 
cessarily spoken. It needed on formal pronouncing, 
however ; for strangely, perhaps, her brother was at 
that moment thinking precisely the same thought. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


99 


” I know that she has gone, and is not coming 
back,” said Osgood, vacantly gazing at the charmed 
chalcedony. It was a lovely. cream- white stone. In 
the centre floated a drop of clouded blood. Then, 
as he looked longer, it seemed to be covered with 
tiny drops ; and still as he watched they all seemed 
to float together again, and became but one deep 
shadow in the centre. A narrow rim of gold sur- 
rounded it, covered with curious clamps and notches ; 
and between them he could just discover the infinitesi- 
mal lettering of the charmed secret. 

" If you know she is gone you know why she has 
gone,” Maime said, at last ; and putting her arms 
about her brother’s neck, she looked into his sad 
eyes and asked, ” Is it something that I cannot know 
too ? ” 

" ^s^o, no, Maime, I am trying to tell you now,” he 
said, kissing her. ” You have no need to look so 
sad,” he added, drawing her to his knee. ”No one 
is going to eat you up. She went away because she • 
had a very bad dream. She insisted upon going 
away at once, and in her nervous state I feared the 
delay might be dangerous, so I only urged her to 
stay as much as was polite, and then I deliberately 
drove her to the station. She did not wake you to 
say good by, because the dream was about you, and 
she did not dare to. She made me promise to tell 
you, though. She thought a monster from over 
in the graveyard there came out of the tombs 
and bound our father, and began to torture him, 
telling him all the while that the only way he 


100 


THE ONLY ONE. 


could escape would be to sacrifice you upon an 
altar.” The brother shuddered ; there was some- 
thing frightfully real in what he was saying ; and both 
the shudder and the reality were imparted by some 
strange, unconscious influence to the little figure on 
his knee. "It made such a deep impression upon 
her that she forced me to promise that I would tell 
you and warn you, from her, if you loved Guy to 
stand by him.” 

" I love Guy ! ” The blue eyes opened wide in 
astonishment. " Of course I do,” said Maime, 
proudly. "And I shouldn’t like to see the day 
when I would n’t stand by him. You may just 
tell Kate Ashley so from me ; and tell her I 
am ashamed of her for running away before such 
folly.” 

But though she kissed him, laughed, and went 
away to her own room singing a merry song, even 
her unobserving brother knew that there was some- 
jthing hidden in her heart, not expressed either in 
her words or song. 

" She showed just the tips of her teeth when she 
laughed that time,” he said to himself. " That is not 
natural for Maime.” 

It has always been a wonder, and will never be ex_ 
plained, how much and how minutely an unobserving 
person sees sometimes, and how very little and how 
very incorrectly he sees at other times. 

At breakfast Amos Carleton sat as ever at the head 
of the table, and Maime opposite. Osgood sat upon 
the right. It was precisely as they had sat all their 
lives. And the place upon the left was vacant. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


101 


Amos Carleton made no observation upon the ab- 
sence of their guest. Possibly it Avould have sur- 
prised him to have been told that the seat had been 
occupied at all by a stranger. Yet he talked more 
than he had ever talked before in all his life during 
that vexing prelude to each business day. 

He was not what the world would have called 
social. That would have been an utter impossibility. 
But he was very unlike the silent man which the two 
before him knew as their father. 

He spoke tenderly to Maime, and even asked 
Osgood when he was going back to the army, and if 
it would not be better to give up his commission and 
settle down in the city. He suggested that, after the 
war, there would be such a rush of young doctors for 
every available field that it would be much harder 
making his way. The carriage passed the window ; 
but the automaton of business calmly extended his 
cup for cofiee, instead of turning at once for his hat 
and the door. Osgood involuntarily looked into 
Maime’s eyes. He had avoided them before. They 
were red. She had been crying. At the same 
instant Maime as involuntarily looked at her brother. 
They seemed to say to each other, " It is coming ! ” 
Then they looked away again. But it did not come, 
after all. For, having deliberately finished his 
breakfast, Amos Carleton as deliberately put on his 
coat and hat, and, saying good by as he had never 
said it in his life before, be turned again to the city, 
and soon forgot that he was a man with a family, or 
even a man at all. 


102 


THE ONLY ONE. 


" He is the noble father that I have always loved. 
God bless him ! I knew he would not yield to that 
villain,” said Osgood Carleton, fervently ; and though 
he dared not say it aloud, he demonstrated it all 
in an old-fashioned kiss upon his little sister’s lips. 
Having thus dismissed the matter, very like his 
father, he forgot about it altogether, and entirely 
failed to notice that Maime had not dismissed it 
too. 

It was woman’s perception, perhaps. It was 
something, at all events ; and Maime was even glad 
when the time came that her brother went back 
to the South again, for the burden she was bear- 
ing was weighing heavily upon her heart. It was 
something she must bear alone. He could not 
aid her, and the struggle to keep it from him 
was almost greater than bearing it. There was 
a duty to be performed either to her father, 
herself, or her lover. She sought for it as only a 
girl with a true heart and a true love can. She 
had realized from the first that it was not a dream 
which Osgood had repeated. She had not felt a 
daughter’s loving heart beat in her breast for two- 
and-twenty years for that strange man, ever be- 
fore her, in her thoughts or in reality, without 
knowing something of what that utterly calm ex- 
terior was covering. She had not seen the deep 
lines grow deeper across his face, and the hair 
turn white as snow before her eyes, the nervous 
tension straining every motion, the inconsistent 
tenderness with which her slightest wish had always 


THE ONLY ONE. 


103 


been heeded, and the defiant generosity which con- 
stantly forced money upon her when she already had 
more than she knew how to. expend, and withal the 
impenetrable ice that always drove her away when 
she struggled again and again to come nearer to 
her father than the simple formality of life, without 
realizing that they were all the results of some 
terrible burden he was bearing, or of tortures he was 
enduring to keep that burden from falling on his 
children too. Many a time her heart had ached till 
it had seemed as though she must speak to him, must 
do something to make him feel how she pitied his 
loneliness, how she longed to lift a part of the weight 
from his shoulders to her own, to carry with him the 
load which was bearing him down. 

People had said to her, "He is killing himself 
with overwork. But he was always so. We knew 
him before you were born, before he was married, 
even. But it was always just the same.” 

Maime listened to them, but did not believe them. 
She knew her father too well. She had seen him 
change entirely as years went on, where even her 
brother thought him precisely the same. And 
Osgood Carleton, in his desire to be indefinite, could 
not have put Kate Ashley’s warning in a more 
explicit and simple form. Instantly she saw it 
all more clearly even than Kate Ashley had seen 
it, and the details which her brother knew would 
hardly have made the matter more plain. She 
had left him singing, ])ut she was crying when 
she entered her own room. 


104 


THE ONLY ONE. 


"Is it by otFering me upon an altar that he is 
to be freed?” she sobbed. "Only me, and he 
has never told me ! It must be to marry some man 
who has father in his power. I wish it were any- 
thing else in the wdde world ! Oh, Guy ! Guy ! 
Guy ! ” She wrung her hands, and cried in agony 
as the image of her lover rose before. She had 
not thought of him. 

What ! marry some other man, and give up 
Guy? 

" No, no ! Ten thousand times no ! That is too 
much ! too much ! ” she moaned. " I will do any- 
thing else, anything else. I can die a hundred deaths 
for him, but I cannot do that ! I cannot do that ! ” 

He had written her less than a week before, telling 
her of his success, and his certainty of being already 
able to support her as well as even her father might 
wish. But she had replied, " Not yet, Guy ; not 
yet. Wait till the war is over, and see if father and 
Osgood will go into the city, so that we can live to- 
gether there. I cannot leave Carleton Cottage while 
my father depends on me.” 

And now, now, what was coming now ? Could it 
be that she was to be asked to leave Carleton Cottage 
after all, and not with Guy? 

Her heart and her love ^ose up in opposition and 
bold rebellion against the thought. She would stand 
by Guy against everything ! Then the haggard face 
and the snow-white hair of her father appeared again, 
and her heart failed her. What were all her prom- 
ises of the past to amount to? Had he suffered in 


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105 


silence all his life for her, and never, so long as she 
could remember, spoken one unkind or even a 
thoughtless word to her, and could she not suffer 
for him in return if he required it ? 

Then came the thought that he had not required it, 
and might not, after all. She started to her feet, and 
remembered how^, ever since that morning, he had 
seemed more and more preoccupied, and yet more 
and more tender; how nervous he had been, and 
how he had taken nothing for breakfast that very 
morning but the strongest of coffee. She shud- 
dered. Was he bearing still another blow for her? 
Was that master torturing him, and he suffering all 
for her, and even refusing to speak? Was he si- 
lently giving up his life for her? 

With one great struggle, throwing Guy fiercely 
away from her, she cried, ^'He shall speak to me ! I 
will find out who this monster is, and I will give my- 
self to him.” 

Little did Edgar Stanley know of the friend he 
had at court. Little did Amos Carleton know who 
was making demands for him that he would not make 
for himself. Little did Guy Underwood know of 
the true heart that was leaving him. Little did Maime 
know of the choice to which she was apparently 
turnins:. She had not even wondered who the mon- 
ster might be, coming out of the tombs, till it sud- 
denly appeared to her that her father was hiding even 
his identity. 

For a week Maime watched and waited. Early 
on Sunday afternoon her father returned from the 


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city. This had never occurred before, even on Sun- 
day. So long as she could remember, Sunday had 
been just like every other day, except that he did not 
breakfast till an hour later than usual. 

She was sitting alone on the veranda, thinking of 
Osgood, thinking of Kate Ashley, thinking of her 
father, but not for one random moment thinking of 
Guy Underwood, lest her woman’s heart should fail 
her. 

Her father was driven through the gate, and alight- 
ing at the walk he came with slow"^and feeble step 
and sat down beside her. She greeted him with a 
smile, nothing more. She had never kissed him in 
her life ; he had never kissed her, that she could re- 
member. But the smile faded and the lips were 
trembling instead, as she noticed how uncertain his 
motions were, how bowed his form, and how his head 
hung down, as though pride were something he had 
never known. He seemed suddenly transformed to 
a broken-down old man. 

By some strange instinct it occurred to Maime 
that this was the last day of the month ; and, while 
she looked at her father in terror, it also flashed be- 
fore her that perhaps it was the last day of his trial. 
What more natural than for the fiend to have given 
him to the end of the month ? She waited a moment, 
wondering if he would yield. He took her hand in 
his, and in a voice that trembled with emotion, he 
said, ”Mary, I have not been such a father as I 
should have been to you and Osgood, but so far as I 
have had anything or done anything it has been for 


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107 


you. Now, suppose, Mary, that the tables should 
turn, and that in my old age I should have nothing 
more to give, and could do nothing more; what 
then?” 

Maime’s heart gave an exultant bound of pride in 
her father, and her love for him was redoubled. He 
was not yielding. He would not ask a sacrifice of 
her to save himself. He was only tenderly prepar- 
ing the way to tell her of the suffering that must still 
be brought upon her by his silence. He did not be- 
gin like one who was about to speak in his own inter- 
ests, and Maime became stronger than ever in her 
determination that he must speak of them. She 
replied, almost merrily, " Then, father, it will be 
ours to show you that we have not been loved and 
blessed without gratitude. You have never yet given 
us an opportunity.” 

Thank you, my child. I thought it would be 
so,” said the father, trembling before the love that 
he had so little appreciated. "Yes, yes. I thought 
it would be so. You still love Dr. Underwood, don’t 
you, my darling?” 

Maime had never heard that word from him be- 
fore. It startled her, and before she had considered 
what answer she should give, she whispered faintly, 
" I do, father.” Had it not been for the lie, her heroic 
heart would have told him, "No.” 

" That is right, that is right, Mary. And of course 
you will marry him?” he added, fondling his daugh- 
ter’s hand for the first time in his life. 

But now was^ Maime’s longed-for opportunity. 


108 


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Had she the courage? She paused for a moment 
to gather strensTth. It was more than a mental effort. 
Each little muscle was like steel, each nerve goaded 
to obedience. She looked steadily in his eyes, and 
answered, " Father, I am your child. Love and 
obedience are your due. I shall marry the man you 
select for me.” 

" Thank you ! Thank you, Mary ! ” he said fer- 
vently. But the old man’s voice was sadly broken, 
when one knew how firmly and calmly the words 
of Amos Carleton had always been spoken before. 
" Thank you, Mary,” he repeated. ” It is my wish 
and will that you marry Dr. Underwood. But, 
Mary, if I were to become suddenly poor, — if I 
were to lose everything, — do you think he would 
still love you and marry you ? ” 

For a moment her heart and her will could work 
in unison. Indignantly Maime exclaimed, ”If he 
would not, father, I could wish with all my heart 
that you were poor just long enough to find it 
out.” 

"No, no ! No, no ! ” he answered nervously. "I 
did not say I thought he would not. You know I 
do not even know him. If Osgood is satisfied, and 
if you love him, you may be sure that I am pleased.” 
Then his voice was almost beyond control. The 
words came very slowly. Each one was an effort. 
" But, Mary, what if your father should prove to be 
a — a — a criminal ; only suppose, Mary, — you know 
I am only asking you questions, — suppose he should 
be put in State’s prison for life. What then ? You 


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109 


could not blame him, could you, if he did not want 
to marry you ? ” 

For a moment only sob after sob sounded, and 
Maime’s heroic little figure shook in an agony which 
she could not control ; but, suddenly realizing that 
her father’s voice was still, she fell upon her knees, 
and, clasping his trembling hands, she cried, ” Then, 
father, my duty would be to you, and whether he 
loved me or despised me I should never stop to ask.” 
Then strength came to her again, and pressing still 
closer to her father, in her own low, loving voice she 
pleaded, "Father, you are in trouble. Tell me, oh, 
tell me that I can avert it ! Tell me what I can do, 
father ! ” 

Amos Carleton shook his head decidedly. Then 
he reverently kissed her white forehead. "No, no, 
Mary, I am not in trouble. No, I am happy, very 
happy in my old age. I only wanted to feel sure 
that the man you loved loved you, and that he would 
stand by you against everything. I — I — yes, I am 
very happy, Mary. I feel sure that he loves you, 
and I feel sure that when disgrace and shame come 
down upon me — no, no, Mary, they are not coming, 
they are not coming; only if they did, you and 
Osgood would not wholly despise me, would you, 
Mary? You would know that I did it for you.” 

" Tell me ! tell me ! ” Maime gasped, — " tell me 
wFat I ani to do, father.” 

Amos Carleton spoke slowly, and for a moment 
calmly again, as he replied, " Nothing, Mary. There 
is nothing you can do.” 


no 


THE ONLY ONE. 


” There is, there is ! ” she cried, in her excitement, 
forofettinir all hut the end in view. " There is a man 
for me to marry, and avert it all.” 

"Would you marry a man whom I detest? My 
child, I would ten thousand times rather spend the 
few short years that are left me in prison.” 

Maime groaned as she sat sobbing at his feet. He 
looked at her in a dazed, wondering stare. For a 
moment all the latent power of his old nature had 
been recalled. His voice was strong. His will was 
firm as he spoke those last words. He was the cool, 
ever-collected Amos Carleton. He meant every syl- 
lable. But the sight at his feet swept it all away, 
and in the relapse he was older, feebler, more totter- 
ing than before. 

" Mary, Mary ! ” he exclaimed, shaking violently, 
" you are not to do anything ! There is nothing you 
can do. Don’t cry, Mary. It will not be so very 
bad for you and Osgood. I have put away a hundred 
thousand dollars for each of you where the law can- 
not find it. And this cottage is all yours, Mary, — 
yours and Osgood’s. It was your mother’s. You ’ll 
have the shame of — of me for a father, and that will 
not last long.” He pushed his trembling fingers 
through his thin, white hair. "Only don’t despise 
me, jNIary, you and Osgood. Don’t despise me ; 
that’s all. I fought for years and- kept it back out 
of sight ; but now I am old, and not so keen and so 
quick as I was. My enemy came upon me, and I 
was not strong enough to keep him back any longer. 
I tried, Mary, I tried ; but I could not keep him 


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Ill 


back, and he will betray me to-morrow ! O Mary, 
Mary ! I am sorry I so sorry for you and for 
Osgood ! ” 

The blue eyes of his child, glistening with tears, 
turned up to his with a love as true as ever blessed 
a father’s heart, as she replied, "But, father, do 
you think that I or that Osgood would see you 
suffer, if anything in all the world could save you ? 
No, father, no ! and if it be only for me to marry 
some man whom you may indicate, why — ” It was 
only a heart-throb that for a moment held the word ; 
then gathering her courage like one who is fired 
by the sight of the life-blood flowing from his own 
wounds, she grasped his hand and cried, " Here, 
father, here is my hand ; give it to him quickly, be- 
fore the sun goes down ! ” She did not sob again or 
tremble, to magnify the value of the offering, but, 
quietly kneeling, with her hand in his, she waited 
his reply. 

He clasped her in his arras. "No, no, no! my 
child, it cannot be ! It shall not be I ” he groaned, 
and sank back into the chair again. 

He was no lon^^er the self-controlled and calculating? 
business man. 'With the tears that a moment since 
had burst the ice, the charmed cord of his life 
had snapped. Amos Carleton was but a trembling, 
tottering wreck. Mainie, in her own struggle, did 
not notice it. 

"Father, it shall be!” she said, little dream- 
ing what a phantom of the past she was addressing, 
"and, more than that, it shall be done at once and 
willingly ! ” 


112 


THE ONLY ONE. 


” You are mad ! you are mad ! ” exclaimed Amos 
Carleton, gathering himself for a moment in despair. 
” It is Sir Edgar Stanley ! You are mad ! Don’t 
marry him ! O Mary, my daughter, for heaven’ s 
sake don’t !” 

Only a moment, as that blow fell, Maime stag- 
gered under it. Then again she gathered herself 
for the last great struggle, and in a voice that 
was calm and low and determined, she said, ” Father, 
I will marry him. It is my own free will. Come, 
come to the desk, father, and write the note. Tell 
him to come to the house at once ; to come to- 
morrow, ready to marry me ; that there may be 
no delay. I shall be — I shall be proud of an English 
— Yes, here is the paper. Write it quickly, father.” 

The poor old man had followed his daughter 
to the writing-desk. 

Would that in simple charity and justice she 
could have seen the vacant, expressionless eyes 
which rested upon her ; but she dared not look into 
the face. Would she had braved one glance as she 
dictated the letter, and he mechanically followed 
word for word. She would have seen that the 
soul of Amos Carleton was no longer in the watch- 
tower. She would have realized that her father had 
gone forever from Carleton Cottage, before that 
remnant of only half-animated clay took up a pen to 
respond to her command. But she was busy with 
her own concerns, and did not notice it. 

The letter was finished, and for a moment the 
hand swung boldly as of old, while it formed the 


THE OJfLY ONE. 


113 


signature. It was the last flush of the embers as the 
gust sweeps away the lingering spark. He was 
utterly unable to direct the envelope. Maime did it 
with her own hand, sealed and sent it to the city 
by a servant. 

Not knowing what he had been doing, Amos 
Carleton crept up to his room and went to bed. 
It was broad daylight, but he did not notice it. He 
had never been accustomed to sit up long after 
reaching home, and was only following the habit of 
years’ and years’ contracting. He was still an 
automaton. 

Edgar Stanley smiled as he read the note. ”I 
thought it would come to this,” he said ; and when he 
had finished he muttered : " Guy Underwood, you 
and I are quits ! You kept me from one fortune ; 
I have kept you from another.” 

He appointed a day for the marriage so early that 
Maime had scarcely time to realize what she was 
doins: when it was all done. Neither Oso^ood nor 
Guy knew of the marriage. Maime would not give 
them an opportunity to interfere. 

The morning before the marriage, her father crept 
into her room. He had only recovered from the 
shock sufficiently to realize what was soon to be 
done. He had no thought, no power to prevent 
it. He crept in like a' thief, starting from each 
shadow. He laid upon the bed a package of fifty 
thousand dollars in gold government bonds, and 
clasping his daughter’s hand, piteously begged her 
not to tell Sir Edgar. ”He will take them ayvay 


114 


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from you if you do, and you may need them some 
lime, Mary. I have sent fifty to Guy and fifty 
to Osgood, and there’s plenty more. Oh, yes, 
there ’s plenty more ! ” 

He laughed and chuekled as he went away ; and 
Maime, so rapt in her own troubles, did not realize 
that it was the first time in all her life that she had 
heard her father laugh aloud. 

The marriage was strictly private ; the father, 
the bride, the groom, the clergyman, and one old 
house-servant to watch the ceremony and open the 
door. That was all. His only daughter was mar- 
ried ; and Amos Carleton, without waiting to bless 
the bride, fled from the room and crept nervously 
into his carriage. 

” Faster ! faster ! faster ! ” he eagerly repeated 
to the bewildered driver, till the horses were white 
with foam. 

He stopped at his land agent’s office, and told him 
to rent Carleton Cottage as it stood, and report to his 
lawyer. Then he drove to his own office, and directed 
the driver to return. 

” To the cottage? ” asked the astonished man, who 
had always waited in the city till his master returned, 
whether by day or night. ^ 

"Yes, to the cottage ! ” said Amos Carleton, 
sternly. " To the cottage or to hell ! ” 

As the old driver turned the panting horses he 
fooked anxiously toward the office door, which closed 
behind his master, and muttered to himself, " In 
tw^enty year come next December that I’ve druv 


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115 


for Mr. Carleton, I never see him carry on like 
that.” 

I 

The first struggle was over. The fire was lighted 
upon the altar. Maime was married, and Kate Ash- 
ley, who had made that solemn vow to God upon her 
knees beside Maime’s bed, had never been heard 
from again. The vow was broken. Only she and 
her God knew why. 


116 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTER XII. 

D r. CARLETON sat in his tent, his head resting 
on his hand. In the other hand he held the 
precious chalcedony. He moved it slowly from side 
to side, watching the curious effect of the faint camp- 
light in the deep red cloud as it floated in the centre. 
But he was not thinking of himself to-night. He 
was dreaming of Maime and Guy. The mail van 
reached the camp. It brought him a letter from 
Maime. He opened it ; it was not very long, but to 
judge of its contents by the way they were received 
would have been utterly impossible. It was Maime’s 
confession. The brother read it to the end, and a 
deep frown furrowing his face was the only external 
evidence. He read it only once. It was very 
simple. It said, My darling brother : Are you 
happy as you open this? I am sorry, very sorry, 
Osgood, but possibly what I must tell you will give 
you a little pain. Do not be angry, Osgood, for it 
was right that I should do it. Do not be sad, for I 
did it of my own free will. Before you receive this 
I shall be the wife of Sir Edgar Stanley. The warn- 
ing which Kate A'shley sent me opened my eyes to 
the terrible tortures which father was suffering for 
us. He did not want me to do this. He refused to 
have me do it. But the penalty he must have suf- 


THE ONLY ONE. 


117 


fered was such that you or I would gladly have 
given our lives to have saved him and counted it 
nothing. You would have done it quicker than I 
did, Osgood, if you could. I do not fear the sacri- 
fice ; but there is one thing I do fear, and you must 
help me. O my darling brother, I love Guy, and 
he loves me. Don’t let him be angry, Osgood. 
He cannot be, if you explain it all to him. Don’t 
let my soul be tarnished in his eyes. It will not be, 
if you tell him.” 

Slowly Dr. Carleton replaced the letter in the 
envelope, and put it in his pocket. He walked 
slowly down the forest-like bivouac. Some of the 
men saluted him, some even hailed him to bring 
them relief from their sufferings. But his eyes 
were blind, his ears were deaf, his hands were still. 
While the men were preparing for another day, he 
tried to write to his friend Guy. But words were 
an inadequate vehicle to convey his thoughts. In 
despair he placed Maime’s letter, just as it came to 
him, in a fresh envelope, and directed that to his 
friend. Then he attem.pted to write to his father, 
but again he failed. Not from lack of words, how- 
ever, but from the simple folly of spending reproach 
when the deed was done. Reproach? Yes, in all 
the debt of reverence which he fully acknowledged, 
he could hardly find the grace to remain silent, even 
after the deed was done. 

He ground the anger into his silent soul, and in 
the terrible routine of battle-life four weeks went by 
without a letter, even to Maiijie. Whether he were 


118 


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angry with her or only terribly pained for her, he 
could not tell. He only came to his senses when the 
mail brought him another letter, of a legal kind, 
bearing the still more startling information that his 
father had died, suddenly, in an obscure Western 
town, — died a helpless maniac, and been buried by 
strangers, — and that it would be necessary for him 
to return, take possession of the property, and assist 
in settling an estate which was somewhat entangled, 
but which promised to be much larger even than was 
commonly supposed. 

Then he realized how his father too had suffered, 
and in his pity he forgot to be angry ; and forgetting 
to be angry he even blessed his sister for the noble 
struggle she had made to save him. 

So soon as was possible he was at home again. 
At home ! Strangers had taken the lease, and were 
already in possession. Carleton Cottage offered him 
no welcome. With a still heavier heart he directed 
the driver to turn about and carry him again to the 
city. He did not as yet dare to venture upon visit- 
ing Maime, even if he could have consented to have 
become Sir Edgar Stanley’s guest. 

He found his father’s attorneys in possession of 
a will made twenty years before, dividing the entire 
fortune between himself and Maime. More than 
this, the only information they could give him was 
that for over a month before he disappeared it had 
been very evident that his father was insane. At 
last he saw it all. He had no desire to take an active 
part in arranging the estate ; he left the matter with 
the attorneys, and took refuge in a huge hotel. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


119 


There was one, however, who was in much irreater 
haste ; and Dr. Carleton had not been long' in the 
city when his first caller’s card was ^ brought to his 
room. 

I left word at the office that I would not see any 
one ! ” he said, turning fiercely upon the servant, 
without looking at the card. 

” Please, sir,” replied the servant, meekly enough, 
” he says that he must see you, and that if you have 
his card you will send for him.” 

Surprised, Dr. Carleton glanced carelessly at the 
name, — 

" Sir Edgar Stanley ! ” 

” Show him up ! ” he said, even more fiercely than 
he had spoken before. Then he crushed the card in 
his hand, and, slowly lifting his fingers, he stood look- 
ins^ at the wreck he had made of it. 

This was what Sir Edgar Stanley saw, as he en- 
tered a moment later, and, under the delicate mus- 
tache, the classical lips curved in a satanic smile. 

" I am glad to welcome you as a brother,” he said, 
bowing very low. 

Dr. Carleton started perceptibly, looked at him 
wonderingly for an instant, and replied, ” I suppose 
I am your brother. I had overlooked that part.” 

" You are rather sarcastic,” said the Englishman^ 
smiling ; " but if that is the way you propose to play 
your game, why go ahead. It would be better than 
having you too familiar.” 

Dr. Carleton began to regret the manner in which 
he had received his sister’s husband. He spoke more 


120 


THE ONLY ONE. 


politely. " Sir Edgar, as my sister’s husband, you are 
to me my brother. Only in the world let us be what 
we have always been to each other, nothing.” 

” I do not agree to that,” replied Sir Edgar, coldly. 

could not recognize in my own house one who had 
failed to recognize me on the street. Eather, my 
dear friend, let us be enemies, here and every- 
where. It will add a little spice to life, you know.” 

Even Dr. Carleton was started upon his own battle- 
ground. He had asked for a stone and been given a 
a scorpion. 

"I have a little business to perform with you. We 
will simply consider ourselves strangers till that is 
done, if it please you better. After that, I will not 
throw myself in your way again. And I warn you, 
if you would not meet an enemy, avoid it by never 
throwing yourself in mine.” 

" I shall not annoy you more than is necessary in 
seeing my sister,” said Dr. Carleton, scornfully. 

"You forget she is my wife, now,” replied Sir 
Edgar, smiling. 

" You do not propose to object to my seeing her?” 

" Most assuredly ! ” declared Sir Edgar. " I ad- 
vise you explicitly that if I should find you upon my 
grounds, I should treat you like any common thief. 
I am an expert in the use of your American re- 
volvers, though I have not been to the war. I will 
prove it to you if I find you there. But this is not 
business.” 

"No, this is not business,” replied Dr. Carleton, 
calmly. " Let us attend to it at once.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


121 


Gracefully Sir Edgar seated himselt in the most 
comfortable arm-chair, and wilh one delicate hand 
lying easily upon the marble table he began : " I 

understand your father’s death left you in possession 
of a large estate, the half of which belongs to my 
wife. I have come here to claim it. ” 

The doctor looked up in astonishment. " I have 
nothing more to do with that than has my sister. ” 

" I am quite aware of it ; but you , are the only 
other heir, and as such I want your order to the at- 
torneys to turn your sister’s portion over to me at 
the earliest possible date, as we are going abroad.” 

" I should suppose it should be paid to her.” 

" So do the lawyers. But the lady desires that it 
be paid to me. ” 

doubt it,” Dr. Carl eton muttered, scarcely mov- 
ing his lips. 

"I supposed you would, from the manner in which 
you received me. But just here comes in my busi- 
ness. Your father and I were friends, associates, 
confidants. I was a sort of vault in which he kept 
his secrets. I could have buried him in a State 
prison while he lived, and now that he is dead it is in 
my power to sweep away the last dollar of his estate. 
Unless that money is turned over to me, and turned 
quickly, I shall put it to the test, and you both lose 
it all. It is a pity to be driven to such an extremity 
to defend a sister’s rights against her br.other.” 

^^And more a pity when even that falls dead!” 
exclaimed Dr. Carleton. ” Sir Edgar, when my sis- 
ter comes to claim her share she shall have it and 


122 


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mine, too, if she wish it, to bless her for the awful 
sacrifice she made to save her father. But rest as- 
sured I would not lift a finger to save a dollar of his 
wealth, except from you.” 

" Look here, Carleton,” said Sir Edgar, and again 
the metallic laugh seemed almost to accompany his 
words ^ "we have begun at th^ wrong end in this. 
To fight like cats won’t help us on, you know. Of 
course you want your share of the money, and — ” 

"You are mistaken,” Dr. Carleton interrupted, 
leaning upon the marble mantel. 

"Well, your sister wants hers, at all events,” 
added Edgar Stanley, vexed with the indifference, 
which was the only thing that could baffle him. 

" When she says so, I will believe it, ” Dr. 
Carleton replied. 

" I said so,” remarked Sir Edgar, curtly. 

" And I doubted it,” replied the other, stopping to 
brush an atom of dust from his coat. 

"You do not believe me? You call me a liar?” 

Sir Edgar was oJff his guard, and he bit his lip, 
more from mortification than anger, as Dr. Carleton 
replied, "I do, ” without looking up. 

"You are going farther than you mean,” Sir 
Edgar said, after a moment’s pause. Then he rose, 
slowly, and taking his gloves from the table, re- 
marked, as he turned the knob of the door, "A 
little thought will show you that you are acting 
rashly. Your father was a traitor to his country. 
For the past two years he has been running block- 
ades with arms, and coming back with cotton. For 


THE ONLY ONE. 


123 


ten years he has been issuing counterfeits through 
his bank, and this is only a drop in the bucket. 
Now, if the money is of no value to you, and 
your father’s good name is of no importance to 
you, you will at least admit that they may 
be to your sister ; and for her sake I fancy you 
will agree to my terms. Good day, doctor ; I will 
see you to-morrow.” 

Dr. Carleton hardly responded to the graceful 
bow as Sir Edgar left him. He saw the force 
of the Englishman’s position, if what he said were 
true, and the sudden fear possessed him that its 
truth was at least a possibility. He was leaning 
upon the marble mantel, when Moses, a little black 
boy he had brought with him from the army, entered 
the room with a bound and a chuckle. 

Two imperishable rows of glistening ivory indi- 
cated a broad grin on Moses’s face as he nodded to his 
master; and, verily, Moses’s mouth was so large 
and his body so small that the threat he often 
made to swallow himself, when things did not go 
to please him, seemed one of the most possible 
things in all the world for him to do. 

Moses did not stop to look at his master, to 
see if it were well for him to venture a remark, 
for his remarks were always out of season. He 
had given up all hope of ever saying anything at just 
the right time ; but in a voice that invariably made 
a stranger start and look at him in astonishment, 
wondering if that rumbling roar could possibly have 
originated in the tiny atom of a boy, he observed, 


124 


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^Well, ef dat yeah gemman ain’t a case, den dis 
nigger’s name ’s no longer Mose ! ” 

Dr. Carleton made no reply, but Moses was 
determined to be noticed, so he added : S’posed 
^de atmospherical pearance ’d be blacker ’n my hide, 
in dis yeah ’partment.” 

" Come, come, Moses ; close up that sepulchre,” 
said Dr. Carleton, half angrily, half laughing. But 
Moses minded the smile, and let the anger go for 
what it was worth to some one else. 

He pushed his queer, great hands into the little 
pockets of his neat, blue breeches, and, quite for- 
getting to move the gold-banded military cap from 
his woolly head, he replied, " W’y, bress y% massa 
doctor, dat preacherish gem’n wid de florid like 
spots wha his bard wus bald, a-rippin out dem 
powerful aoves, all de way down de stairs, wus 
nuff to send de stone a-kitin from de doh uv a 
bigger sepulchre dan mine.” 

Again little Moses received no response, and, 
turning sadly away to attend to the duty that came 
next in hand, he muttered to himself, "He could n’t 
’a’ been a-cussin dat away berry long, he ’d ’a’ got 
clean out o’ cuss words sho nufi*.” • 

"What did he say?” asked Dr. Carleton at last, 
more out of pity for little Moses’s disappointed 
face, than because he cared to know what Sir Edgar 
might have talked about. 

Moses turned with alacrity and a grin. " Swaller 
myseff ef I juss kno’, mars doctor. Not so berry 
much mor’n cuss words. Talked like he ’d got kotch 


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125 


in de rain, bes’ boots on, an’ no umbrill. Ifollered 
him from de dob down to de street fo’ to, kotch 
de tenor ob his conversation. Cause why ? ’Pearin’ 
as he did, I knows suffin was agwine ter bust, 
and s’posed you ’d like to kno’ what. Mose’s feet 
bigger ’n his, two to one, but dis chile nebber made 
de shadder ob de racket a-gettin’ ober de stairs dat 
de florrid-like gem’n made a waggin’ ob his tongue. 
One ob de waiters gud me awful cuff ’cross de year, 
a-goin’ by de parlor doh, an’ yelled, couldn’t I make 
less noise. But I s’posed he meant it foh de gem’n 
on ahead, so I nebber hollered worf a cent.” 

Dr. Carletob gave Moses a dollar to atone for the 
blow. Then he fell to thinking the matter over 
in the new light which Moses had thrown upon it 
in reporting the excitement and dissatisfaction of Sir 
Edgar, and the result was a resolve to make no 
concessions whatever. 

"For the present I will remain where I am,” 
he said aloud, as he stood by the mantel ; and 
Moses, who felt exceptionally obliging under the 
circumstances, looked up from the corner where 
he was waiting orders, and asked, — 

" Mars want ter hev Mose bring de supper up 
en sarve it on de mantel-piece ? ” But the only 
reply was the old command to close that wonder- 
ful sepulchre. 


126 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTEE XIII. 

S IE EDGAE did not call again, as promised. Dr. 

Carleton wrote several letters to his sister, sent 
them in various ways, but received no reply. He 
even visited the Stanley mansion only to be deliber- 
ately turned away by a servant. He returned to the 
city to philosophize. 

It was evident that Sir Edgar could not, or would 
not, carry out his threat. It was evident, too, that 
only in his own coin could the English nobleman be 
outwitted. The doors of the Stanley mansion were 
bolted against him. He tested the friends of Sir 
Edgar in various disguises, but they knew as little 
about Sir Edgar as did strangers. He sadly missed 
his friend Guy in this search ; for Dr. Underwood 
had left the city immediately after the marriage, and 
no one knew what had become of him. 

Very few even knew that Sir Edgar had been 
married a second time, and a certain indefinite odor 
of evil that had gathered about the Englishman had 
by degrees thrown him entirely out of society. But 
Dr. Carleton found at last a valuable assistant in 
little black Mose. For two days he was away upon 
a mission ; then he came tumbling into his master’s 
apartments in the ragged clothes which had been 


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127 


prepared for him, exclaiming, ”0 gollie, mars 
doctor ! ” 

Dr. Carleton had repeatedly preached to the little 
fellow on the subject of profanity. This time, how- 
ever, he made no attempt ; but, seeing a promise of 
something in the black face and enormous mouth, he 
asked, — 

" Gollie what, Moses ? ” 

Moses looked up in holy horror. ” Swaller my- 
seff,” he groaned ; " ef dat was n’t a cuss word fresh 
from de doctor, den dis nigger’s name ’s no longer 
Mose.” When the shock had subsided a little he 
continued : '' Bin gon dun it, mars doctor 1 ” Then 
he grinned from ear to ear, and with the grin he 
uttered something that from long experience Dr. 
Carleton felt sure was his old formula, ” De Lord’s 
name be praise ! ” 

"You’re a long while coming at it, Moses,” said 
Dr. Carleton ; but the boy interrupted him, — 

"I’s jes right on it now, mars doctor.” Then 
looking at his great bare feet, large enough to have 
supported a man of two hundred pounds, and stretch- 
ing the black toes far apart, thinking, perhaps, of 
that little hut among the bushes, dreaming of the old 
plantation way down upon the Swanee River, he 
chuckled and grinned, and observed, "I’slied like 
de debbil fo’ dese two days, mars doctor. And oh, 
gollie, ’twus drefful good to git back to it ag’in. 
Seemed like I wus home once more down in de sunny 
Souf. Bress my brack hide ! ’Pears like I hain’t 
had nuffin so drefful good sence we wus to de camp- 


128 


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meetin’ togedder ’n’ heerd urn yell. ef dat yah 

preaclierish ge’m’n ain’t de mos’ fo’ cussin’ ! O mars 
doctor, ’t would ’a’ done you’ ole heart good fo’ to a 
heerd him a-pourin’ out his powerful soul in de mos’ 
enormity of oaves. My gollie ! I ’s nowhar ! ” 

It was no use trying to stop little Moses ; for when 
his great mouth was full of words they had to come 
out very much as it pleased them. The hole was 
too large for him to sort them and send the right ones 
first. 

It transpired at last, however, that he had gained 
a private talk with Sir Edgar’s butler, and had given 
him one hundred dollars, which Dr. Carleton had sent 
him, with the promise of ten times more if he would 
come to the hotel, and give him some information. 
It was more than a week before he came ; and then it 
was with fear and trembling, and with the assurance 
that he was laying himself liable to the loss of a place 
that was yielding him a magnificent compensation. 

Before he asked a question Dr. Carleton paid him 
a thousand dollars, and to do him justice the man 
tried hard to furnish information, but utterly failed. 
Sir Edgar had very few servants, and those few were 
well paid to serve him faithfully. Sir Edgar was a 
hard master, with emphatic discipline. He had only 
seen the lady. Sir Edgar’s last wife, a few times ; 
she had dined in the great salon once or twice, but 
that was all. She had been ill, he believed, ever 
since. Food for the invalid was always sent to Sir 
Edgar’s room by a wall elevator. He did not know 
who the nurse was, or who was the physician. He 


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129 


was perfectly willing to watch, and report anything* 
that could he discovered for the additional compen- 
satioit that was freely offered him ; hut he was sure 
in advance that there was little chance, for his mas- 
ter saw to it well that those whom he employed kept 
to their own business. Sir Edgar was often away 
from home, hut when or for how long none of the 
servants knew till afterward. 

Still Dr. Carleton thought he had made one step 
of progress, when the next day the hutler appeared 
again,, with the unwelcome news that he had been 
summarily discharged upon returning to the mansion 
and finding the master fully aware of his absence. 

" He ’s awful sharp,” said the unfortunate hutler, 
" and for listening to you I have lost the best payin’ 
place I ever had.” 

Another thread had snapped ; but, not discour- 
aged, Dr. Carleton again applied his will and wits to 
the task of untying the twisted knot. 

The new butler of the Stanley mansion would have 
been a more difllcult subject for Dr. Carleton to have 
approjiched, even had he attempted to, for he was 
more wily. Yet he would have been far more ser- 
viceable to him, if he could have approached him; 
for, withal, he was possessed of that peculiarity so 
often attributed to woman alone by those who know 
very little of what man really is, — an inordinate curi- 
osity. He was a large, bulky fellow, rather rough 
for a gentleman’s butler, and with a strong German 
accent ; but upon his first appearance he mightily 
pleased the pale-faced nobleman, and was not even 


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allowed to leave the house after his apjdication. His 
duties were carefully explained to him, and for a 
surprisingly large compensation he was instructed 
that he would be expected to perform them to the 
last letter, and never, under any proVocation, to go 
one step beyond. Sir Edgar Stanley noted with sat- 
isfaction that he filled his place to perfection. He 
was rarely mistaken in his opinion of human char- 
acter. 

The kind-hearted servants took it upon themselves 
to inform the new-comer, so soon as he was left alone 
with them, of all the peculiarities of the strange 
house, dwelling emphatically upon the appearance 
of unearthly spirits. These stories were not only 
told as they had really occurred, but greatly exag- 
gerated. 

" Mein Gott ! ” exclaimed the poor fellow, shaking 
in his shoes, " dod dings ish schust de deevil heem- 
self. I droder not meet heem, so I vould.” But 
his curiosity was aroused, curious as it may seem in 
a matter-of-fact German character. He sat down be- 
side himself, and slapping himself upon the knee 
he asked, ” Albrecht, vat you dinks ? Vat for you 
becomes dis beeg pay? Yen dare’s nodding wrong, 
you becomes ten tollar ; now, dis man he speak 
funf und zwanzing — twentee-fiff — tollar? Some- 
dink ’s wrong I You finds out, dells me, all right ! ” 

Thus, with commendable audacity, he began to 
look into matters about him as carefully as even Dr. 
Carleton could have wished. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


131 


CHAPTER XIY. 

T he curious Albrecht carefully observed the 
hours which his master kept and failed to 
keep. He arrived at the conclusion that he was 
indeed a most irregular and peculiar man ; that many 
times when he professed to be away he was only 
closeted in his room, and that many a time when he 
was supposed to be at home he was away. He 
was told that his master’s wife, a confirmed invalid, 
occupied a room opening only out of his own. 
Three times a day he was directed to send up by 
a little elevator such dishes as she might be sup- 
posed to relish. No one had seen his master’s 
wife for months. Yet the dishes were removed 
from the elevator at times when he was sure 
beyond the slightest doubt that his master was 
not at home. Either the lady had a nurse or 
else she was not so helpless but that she could 
jissist herself. Now, if she had a nurse, there 
was surely a mystery worth his attention in the 
fact that no one knew who or wdiat the nurse might 
be. The cause for such a secrecy was well worth 
knowing. If she had no nurse, it was certainly very 
peculiar that she herself was never seen. Per- 
haps she was crazy. It struck him as the most 
probable thing; but if that were the case, it was 


132 


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danoferous for the master to leave her alone so 
lonof. On the whole, he decided that it was not 
only best for all concerned that he should investigate 
this question, but also came to the conclusion that 
about this mystery hung the whole secret of the big 
pay that had at first set liim thinking. 

With this fact established he began a study of 
the case that would have done credit to an ac- 
complished detective. 

The apartments above were always locked be- 
yond his power of opening. Only one servant 
was ever allowed to enter there. This occurred 
only under summons from the master to work under 
his immediate inspection. 

It was evident to Albrecht that there was some- 
thing there worth seeing, and equally evident 
that the servant who did go in had never seen 
it or even looked for it. He began to inspect the 
immediate connection between his own apartments 
and those of his master. The elevator passage 
was not large. He wondered if by any possibility he 
could urge himself through it. During this ex- 
amination an accident disclosed to him a curious 
combination in that simplest of all contrivances. 
Experimenting upon it, he discovered it to be an 
arrangement by which, when the tray had reached 
a certain height, it left the horizontal position and be- 
came an inclined plane, so that any dishes which 
were upon it must have at once removed themselves. 
Here was an idea which struck his German brain 
as being one of importance. He operated the in- 


THE ONEY ONE. 


133 


teresting automaton over and over again, with his 
head thrust into the elevator door below, and turned 
completely over. 

" Dot ’s vat do de peesnisch ven he vas avay, ’’ 
he muttered, admiringly. ” Den mebbee he have n’t 
got somedinks vat carry it a leedle fudder, or dot 
seek frau she schust goes hungrish dill he corner 
heim again.” And so very curious did he become 
that it grew into one of the greatest necessities of 
his life to investigate that chamber. The elevator 
was his only hope. He measured the opening, and 
then measured himself. There were fully four 
inches in favor of the elevator. Forthwith he be- 
gan such a routine of starvation as would have thrust 
the Banting system into the gloomiest shadows. 
He noticed that upon each Sunday night his master 
took particular pains to indicate that he was to 
be at home. It suggested to the German that prob- 
ably, upon that particular evening, he was not at 
home. Knowing the secret of the elevator, it was 
comparatively easy for him to discover whether 
the dishes were removed by natural means, or 
whether they were left for the automatic combina- 
tion. He listened carefully upon two successive 
Sundays, while starvation was working its wonder?, 
and knew, beyond a doubt, that no human agency 
was used. Upon the third Sunday, just two months 
after having entered the employment of Sir Edgar, 
having decreased five inches in diameter, he pro- 
ceeded to attempt to satisfy his inordinate curiosity. 

First he locked the doors about him; then he 


134 


THE OinLY ONE. 


divested himself of all the clothes he could readily 
dispense with, and drawing himself into the elevator 
he laboriously began the ascent, aided by iron spikes, 
which he moved slowly up beneath him as he 
advanced. 

Long before he reached the end he was ready 
to give up, satisfied, and go back again, but alas ! 
those iron spikes would move upward, inch by 
inch ; but bend and struggle as he would, he could not 
move them down a hair’s breadth. He lost his 
curiosity, but he kept on climbing. At last the 
light from above began to fall over him, and, weak 
from hunger and exhausted from the exertion, he 
paused, and bending his body he looked up. 

He groaned in horror ! The upper door, less than 
a foot beyond his reach, was not so large as the top 
of his head. His heart failed him. His nerves, 
which had seriously suJffered in the torture that he 
had inflicted upon his body in the last three weeks, 
now began to assert themselves, bent upon a terrible 
I’^venge. He shouted, but the mufiied echo alone 
sounded in the narrow tunnel. He struggled with 
the iron spikes, but they held him fast. He was 
bound there in confines closer and more horrible than 
a coffin. Intensely his mind reviewed the results 
when his master should return and find him there. 
Doubtless, starvation would be counted a very pretty 
punishment. 

By almost superhuman energy, the energy of de- 
spair, he forced one hand and then the other past his 
body and above his head. He could grasp the ledge 


THE ONLY ONE. 


135 


with his fingers. But to what end? He was suffo- 
cating, strangling ! He was even worse off than be- 
fore. He was dying ! Losing his senses, in a 
position where to lose them was almost certain 
death. He was not prepared to die. He could not, 
he would not die. But what could save him? Ab- 
solutely nothing. The dim light from the aperture 
above faded before his blood-shot eyes. His head 
whirled in great circles in that narrow place. 

” Mein Gott ! ” he gasped, and felt his fingers loos- 
ening. 

For an instant he realized that the iron spikes had 
still sustained him, then all was lost in a whirling 
panorama. He seemed to be dancing upon some in- 
finite trapeze, reeling through space with a universe 
of room about him ; then he was being sucked down 
into the vortex of a maelstrom, and just above him 
came the devil and grinned at him. Suddenly, then, 
a fearful light burst upon him. It was the fire from 
the devil’s face. And the devil took him with a great 
hooked tail, and dragged him into a place that was 
red with fire and light. At last he was in hell. He 
would rather have been left in the elevator, but no 
one had given him a choice. He lay upon the floor 
of the evil one’s headquarters ; but he breathed more 
easily, and suddenly realized that he was vastly more 
comfortable than he had been. If that was all there 
was to hell, whyj future punishment was not so bad 
a thing as he had been taught to understand. 

Gradually he became more cognizant of matters 
and things as they were. He detected the clatter of 


136 


THE ONLY ONE. 


dishes and the noise of knives and forks, and some- 
thing very like the smacking of lips with the relish 
of good appetite, and came to the conclusion that 
the devil was taking his evening meal. His eyes 
were so painfully closed that it required a strong 
effort of the will to raise the lids. But at last they 
trembled and parted, when lo ! he was in a most 
sumptuous apartment, — the devil’s luxurious break- 
fast-room, no doubt ! There was upholstery that 
upon the earth might have made glad the heart of an 
emperor. The walls were decorated with Oriental 
tapestries that would have shamed the fingers of the 
greatest of earth’s weavers. The chamber was heavy 
with massive wood-carving ; great oaken ornaments 
and solid oaken doors, with such panels as never 
could have been carved by human hands, and muffled 
by heavy, hanging draperies. Marbles in busts and 
statuettes adorned every conceivable corner. Master- 
pieces in the painter’s art in such horrible designs as 
were most appropriate in hell, hung by great cords 
from the brilliantly frescoed ceiling, and caused a 
shudder of agony and admiration to shake the pros- 
trate form of the poor German butler. And again 
the clatter of dishes and the smacking of lips aroused 
him, and drew his eyes to a lower level in the room. 

" Mein Gott ! ” he groaned, yet not so loud as to 
attract attention, for his eyes rested on a gaunt and 
haggard woman of enormous frame, with gray, dis- 
hevelled hair draggling over her shoulders, only half 
clad ; and where the naked limbs protruded, great 
joints were exposed that were more like the gnarled 


THE ONLY ONE. 


137 


warts on an old oak-tree than growths distorted from 
one of God’s images. With her long, huge-jointed 
fingers or with knife, fork, or spoon, as might be 
most serviceable at the moment, she was crowding 
into her cavernous mouth, without mercy or par- 
tiality, every description of food that lay before her 
upon costly china, which Albrecht, the butler, to his 
horror, recognized as the fac-simile of that which he 
had each day laid upon the elevator. Then he said, 
” Mein Gott I ” again, and the gaunt figure looked 
about and nodded to him, with an unearthly gurgle 
that might, perhaps, have been intended for a laugh. 
”It’s a big man yer are,” said she, "to ’a’ come 
through s’ small a hole ; but these brawny arms, 
they ’re a power yit ” ; and she swung the great 
joints with the skin so painfully wrinkled over 
them. 

Then she began again her merciless struggle with 
the food, and the bewildered German lay and watched 
her while he collected his senses. 

"Und you dinks I come drough dot blace?” he 
said at last, pointing to a decorated panel that he 
now judged to be the elevator, beneath which was a 
low table, in an inclined plane, calculated to carry 
to its lower edge whatever was left upon it, and 
largre enou«:h to hold all that could have been sent 
up during a day’s absence of the master. 

" I ’m jest the one to know ! ” exclaimed the 
woman, pausing for a moment in her exertions, 
" for it ’s these same arms that did the job o’ bring- 
ing of yer out.” And again she swung the ghastly 


138 


THE ONLY ONE. 


members above her head. " I beared yer scrapin’, and 
thin I beared yer howlin’, as I lay in a small cell 
yonder, and says I, ' There ’s suthin likes o’ salvation 
t’ me in thet there bedlam.’ So I jest put thim 
arms to work, and a-lookin’ in the eye o’ hope I bust 
the chains and bust the door and bust out here and 
here I wus. Thin I jest looked about me, en see 
nothin’ to pay. But bein’ free en hungered I ken tell 
yer, I put meself to work upon them victuals like a 
man, en while I wus a-eatiiT I beared a rattlin’ like 
down thet small hole. En thet ’s the way I see yer 
and got me grip on yer back en hauled yer out.” 
And she curled her long fingers suggestively, to 
show how she had got her grip. No wonder he 
had thought it the forked tail of the devil. But 
glancing again at the viands which had not yet 
wholly disappeared, she once more set herself to 
work. 

The German butler was leaning on his elbow now, 
and gazing in a sort of mystified admiration at the 
mass of bones and joints before him. Then, more 
with a desire to hear her voice again than out of any 
further curiosity, he remarked, ”I dells you dot 
dinks vas imbossible. I never comes drough dot 
leedle hole.” 

''But do ye mind thim doors thet open jest above 
it?” said the woman without looking up, for she had 
struck upon something particularly pleasing to her 
outraged palate : " hed ye hed the sconce ter come a 
little higher, ye cud ’a’ opened thim without me 
help.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


139 


''Und brabs you tells me how long you pees as 
you says lock ope in dare,” observed the German, 
his curiosity returning. 

" Siven months come the first o’ winter time,” 
replied the woman sullenly. 

”Hey!” exclaimed the butler, seeing something 
tempting ahead, ”den you knows somedinks ov 
dis seek frau vot marries de master five, seex monds 
ago.” 

"Know?” shouted the woman, turning suddenly 
upon him like a fury from below ; and the first im- 
pressions of the place so vividly returned that he 
almost thought himself again in the infernal world. 
" What do I know ? Thank God, she lift him body 
and soul before the furst two weeks were ffone ! En 
more ’s the luck fur her she did it, fur she ’d V been 
taken body en soul be the divil afore this time, hed 
she ’a’ stayed longer.” 

" Yot’s dat you dells me ! ” said the German, sit- 
ting erect. He had struck upon something now 
that tickled his curious nature to the most exquisite 
touch. " She goes avay, und he vot marries her — 
he don’t know vare?” 

"True wid ye!” said the woman, bringing one 
gaunt hand down on the table with a tremendous 
blow. "En now ’s I ’s saved yer life en set ye free, 
it ’s nip ter wan and tuck ter tither if ye does thet 
same be me, as I ’m here for freein’ her.” 

"Dot’s peesnich,” said the German, "und I schust 
dose dat dinks. You dells me dis, dot you sets her 
free?” 


140 


THE ONLY ONE. 


"I tell yer so ! ” she exclaimed again ; ” I drugged 
his wine, en she left him stupid-like, a-lyin’ on the 
floor, en went her way. The more ’s the pity I ’d not 
V gone with her, instead o’ yielding to her pleadin’ 
to stay behind, en see thet he come to again. God 
brand his si linin’ soul wi’ the divil’s own postmark ! 
He ’d better ’a’ died where he laid. Niver a day since 
thin thet he ’d ncrt ’a’ killed me hed he hed the courage 
o’ a cat. But whist I What ’s thet ? Be the great 
and holy Moses ! He’s huntin’ fur the keyhole, en 
he ’s drunk. God save me, this time ! Fur liquor 
makes him bowld ! ” 

She threw up the great gnarled arms and her 
huge jointed Angers. They looked like a fleshless 
skeleton. 

The butler sprang to his feet. He was ready for 
action, and as cool as though he had never been 
excited in his life. 

” Schust don’t you drouble,” he whispered in her 
ear. ”Vot I hav’ promise I hav’ promise. I dakes 
you mit me from dis house donighd. You dells heem 
vot you got zo hungrisch dot you break your breeson. 
I schust hides myself pehind dis planket, und sees 
dot all goes veil. No fear !” 

He darted behind the heaviest of the curtains, and 
secreted himself only in time to hear the door open, 
and know that the very peculiar master had returned. 

He was busy revolving a matter of importance in 
his mind, and hardly realized the force of the conver- 
sation going on so near to him, till, with an oath from 
the master and a cry from the maid, he heard her 


THE ONLY ONE. 


141 


fall upon the floor. He sprang from behind the cur- 
tain. Sir Edgar stood with his foot upon the 
woman’s breast, and was drawing his revolver. 

"Damn you ! ” exclaimed the Englishman, fiercely ; 
"I will settle you this time, as I should have settled 
you six months ago.” 

Then he suddenly found himself stretched at full 
length upon the floor, and the German butler above 
him calmly observed, "Gott vill not damn dis frau 
for souch a man ash you.” 

Dumb with astonishment. Sir Edgar struggled to 
his feet, only to be thrown down again by his irate 
butler, who wrenched his pistol from his hand, and 
quietly put it in his pocket. 

" What do you mean ? ” cried Sir Edgar 

" Mean peesnisch,” calmly replied the butler. 

" Do you want my money ? ” 

"I danks you, no. I vants to go avay und dakes 
dis frau mit.” 

"Well, go, and go quickly, for heaven’s sake!” 
gasped the Englishman, fully resolved that they 
should not live to get very far away. 

"I don’t got sdrengd do go doo queek, mein herr ; 
I see schoust souch a man ash you before. Komni, 
mal frau, ven dot pony arms ish so ahnidy sdrong 
schoust you dies dot fellah ope. Und mind you dies 
him dite, by sixty! Yot you say? You don’t pees 
fricrhten? Yell, veil! I holds dis pistol mit his 
head.” 

Yery calmly he directed the aim of the weapon, 
and the woman taking courage obeyed him willingly. 


142 


THE ONLY ONE. 


Once securely bound, the butler lifted him as though 
he were a child, and bore him into the adjoining 
room. 

" Fur heaven’s sake ! ” gasped the gaunt woman , 
falling upon the floor in an admiration that was too 
great to be supported by her feet. ” Lave me alone, 
but Dutchie ’s ahid. Why I never did that same me- 
self is beyant me altogether.” 

The butler heard no more, for he was fastening Sir 
Edgar with the same chains that had bound his vic- 
tim. It was in a dismal cell. Then he turned away, 
and had almost closed the door upon Sir Edgar as 
he had so often closed it upon his unfortunate victim, 
when a pitiful voice pleaded, ” Don’t leave me here 
to starve ! I never injured you. I paid you three 
times what you earned, and I will pay you as much 
more as you wish. I never hurt a hair of your 
head.” 

For a moment the temptation to reply seemed to 
hang in the balance with discretion, but it won the 
day. The German butler turned upon Sir Edgar, 
suddenly transformed in every feature. 

" Edgar Stanley,” he said, " what you would do 
to a woman I will not do to you. You shall be freed 
before sunset ; but I warn you to use your freedom 
well, or you shall sufier by a stronger hand than 
mine.” 

The inquisitive butler turned away, and, locking 
the door, Osgood Carleton left his employer’s service 
forever. 

At last he had taken an important step in the 
course of his investio-ation. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


143 


CHAPTER XV. 



R. CARLETOX exerted every energy to restore 


the shattered woman whom he had rescued, but 
the shock and the freedom which followed were too 
much for her. The only reliable information he 
received was while she was partaking of that last 
grand banquet at the Stanley mansion The only 
freedom which the poor creature found afterward 
was in an insane retreat. But time glided mer- 
cilessly onward, and the fall of 1864 found Dr. 
Carleton still struggling, and no nearer the goal. He 
had only arrived at the self-evident conclusion that, 
wherever his sister might be, she certainly did 
not wish him to find her. He did not lose courage ; 
he lost hope ; and from his early life and educa- 
tion fell, the more easily, a victim to bitter melan- 


choly. 


He was stretched upon the sofa, languidly wonder- 
ing what the next step might be, when a wounded 
officer entered his room without ceremony. He 
sprang from the sofa, and grasped the profiered 
left hand, with a glance of compassion at the right, 
lying in a sling. 

They had been brothers in the brigade, but snortiy 
after the doctor’s return the officer had been wounded 
and taken prisoner. 


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” By the God of War, Doc, I Ve done a mean thing 
by you, and the first thing I do is to get over it ! 
The Golden Kule is knocked in the head by 
philosophy. I thought I was doing you a good turn ; 
I was doing as I would have been done by. ” Pie 
was searching in his pockets. 

”What are you coming at? What have you got 
for me?” asked the doctor, laughing. 

” Why, a couple of letters,” said the officer, j)ro- 
ducing them at last. ” They came the day after you 
left for home. It was the eve of battle, and I was 
afraid that in the rush they would be lost and 
never reach you, so I put them in my pocket, intend- 
ing to write you so soon as the battle was over. 
The next time I thought a straight thought was two 
months later, down in a Confederate prison hospital. 
Ten months more went by before I saw our own flag. 
I never once thought of the letters for you. They 
lay all the time in the pocket of the coat they cut 
from me. By some miracle that old coat followed 
me all about, and turned up in the hospital at Wash- 
ington, after I was exchanged, with the letters still in 
the pocket. Hope there ’s no harm done.” 

In the labyrinths of his apology, and the while 
buttoning up his coat in military style, he had 
not noticed that his words were not the subject of 
Dr. Carleton’s thoughts. He looked at him, and 
started from his chair. " Good heavens. Doc ! I ’ve 
done some mischief! Tell me who wrote the letters, 
and let me go to them and explain.” 

_ "My dear fellow,” said the doctor, earnestly, 


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145 


"I assure you no harm is done. It is only a letter 
from my sister. The other is ^mply one that I 
sent to a friend in this city ^me time ago, re- 
turned to me by the Dead-letter Office. He must 
have left the city before he received it. I under- 
stand him now. I have been thinking ill of him.’^ 

He threw the letters carelessly upon the table 
to convince his friend that he spoke truly, and 
inviting him to dine they left the room together. 

The room had not been long deserted when a 
little waiting-maid came in to see that everything 
was ready for the night. She saw the letter, and, 
as almost any pretty little waiting-maid will, she 
picked it up, and, with eyes that were somewhat 
larger than usual, she read : — 

” Osgood, my brother, you have not written to 
tell me that you are still my brother. And yet 
perhaps you have, and by some chance the letter has 
not reached me. I will not believe that you have 
forsaken me. Our father has been freed by a 
strono:er hand than mine. You have learned before 
this that death has paid his ransom. I do not know, 
I wonder if my heart is dead too. When Sir Edgar 
told me, yesterday, I laughed for joy. I gave myself 
willingly, Osgood, and to this minute I feel that 
I was fully justified. I had hardly entered this 
house when Sir Edgar Stanley laughed at me, 
and said he had only made me marry him to punish 
Guy, whom he hated. He said he did not want me 
for a wife, but that he would have my money 


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to pay him for marrying me. It was all so terrible, 
Osgood, that I couid not help it ; I fainted. When I 
came to myself I was in a magnificent bedroom, and 
a servant was undressing me. Then she put out the 
light, and left me alone. Suddenly I heard a door 
creak, as though it had been left unlatched and had 
blown open. But in a moment more I heard a 
living creature breathing. Then all was still, and I 
thought perhaps my husband had come to tell me he 
had been cruel. I think I should have forgiven him, 
Osgood, if he had asked it, — for I was so miserable 
and so frightened. But suddenly I heard something 
movinsc in the room, and the sound of a chain dra"o:ino: 
on the floor. I thought a watch-dog must have 
escaped, and found his way into the room where I, a 
stranger, lay all alone. I could hardly breathe ; 
for I did not want to die there, Osgood, without 
telling you or any one what had happened. The 
sounds came nearer, and I heard a deep sigh, and 
the chains dropped on the floor just beside my bed. 
I did not know what there was about the room, or 
where the lights were or the doors. I did not dare to 
move, I did not dare to cry for help. I was not 
even sure that Sir Edgar had not done it to kill me. 
Then a cold, human hand was laid on my face. I 
screamed, but it tightened over my mouth and held 
me fast. It almost strangled me, but I did not faint 
again. Then, in a low voice, an illiterate w^oman 
told me a story that some day I will repeat to 
to you if God spare me. Osgood, Carrie Ashley, of 
whom Guy told me once, and whom you knew, was 


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kept for a year a prisoner in this house, locked 
in one room, and almost starved to death ; and then, 
because she would not die. Sir Edgar Stanley paid 
this woman who came to me five thousand dollars to 
burn her to death ! He murdered her ! Kate Ashley 
knew of it, and knew of this woman ; and she went to 
the city that morning to send the woman here to warn 
Sir Edgar that if he forced me to marry him she 
would expose him. But Sir Edgar kept the woman 
and bound her, and is starving her to death. She 
escaped ; but, instead of saving herself, she came to 
my room and told me all, and refused to leave till I 
left with her She went back to her cell again, for I 
was too weak to stand upon the floor. I could not 
sit up again for over a week, but yesterday I was 
dressed. Sir Edgar heard of it, and came to my 
room to tell me that our father was dead, and to have 
me sign a paper giving him the property. I would 
not sign it. He only laughed and said, 'Never mind, 
my sweet one, I shall have it, whether you sign 
or not. If you change your mind, you may send 
me word. ’ Then he went out, and I knew what he 
meant by it. Osgood, am I not justified ? I am going 
away to-night. I shall not mail this letter till I 
reach New York. By it you will know that I am 
safe. If you forgive me, Osgood, meet me two 
weeks from to-day upon the steps of the Capitol 
at Washington. I am sure you will be able to get 
there or at least to send me some message. I will be 
there at twelve o’clock and wait till one. I have 
fifty thousand dollars in gold bonds, which father gave 


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me before I was married ; so do not fear that I shall 
suffer, and if you do not forgive me, and do not come 
to me, then I must say a last farewell in this. O 
Osgood, my brother ! believe that I did the best 
I could. Your loving sister, Maime.” 

The little waiting-maid laid down the letter with 
a curious smile that curved two lips too proud and 
haughty to grace a waiting-maid without incon- 
sistency. 

"Murder will out at last,” she said, and went on 
with her duty. 


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149 


CHAPTER XYI. 

SGOOD CARLETOX sat late in his room that 



Vy night, pondering over the fate of the long- 
delayed letter. 

" How could it have happened ? ” he cried, as if he 
would challenge Fate. But the night wind, as it 
howled about the casement, mocked reply. 

Early in the morning the little waiting-maid came 
to the door. He was still sitting by the table. The 
letter was still open before him. He had hardly 
moved. 

" It was so cold this morning that I thought you 
might like a fire,” she said. He had not noticed that 
it was cold, and only muttered a faint "Thank you.” 
The little maid seemed almost to have expected what 
she found, and went about the work saying to her- 
self, " There are trials in high life as well as in low.” 
And a moment later, as the new fire began to crackle 
and snap, she was singing that old sweepePs song, — 


‘‘Though I sweep to and fro, 
Yet I’d have you to know 
There are sweepers in high life 
As well as in low.” 


At last she was only waiting to empty the hod of 
coal upon the fire. Her hands hung idly by her side. 
And when the hands of a pretty waiting-maid are 


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idle, if her tongue oe not busy, she has failed to 
perform one half of her duty. 

She spoke to the silent figure sitting by the table, 
vacantly studying the crumpled letter that lay upside 
down before him. One would hardly have thought 
that she would have dared to speak to him, or 
imagined that he would have noticed her if she did ; 
for her voice was so soft and low, and he was 
preoccupied, even for Dr. Carleton. 

"I met a lady of your name, sir, over a year 
ago. I was on the steamer 'Africa.’ She was 
smaller than I am, and she had light hair and blue 
eyes, but she acted just like you, and she spoke 
like you.” 

"Do you remember her first name?” asked Dr. 
Garleton, starting from his re very. He had heard 
every word. 

" It was — I think it was — ” 

" Maime ? ” the doctor suggested. 

"Yes, I think ' Miss Maime ’ was what her maid 
called her. And that maid was a very treacherous 
woman, too, though the lady did not seem' to know 
it.” She emptied the coal upon the fire, and turned 
to the door. 

"Do you know where they were going?” Dr. 
Carleton asked, apparently forgetting the peculiarity 
of the question. 

The maid turned, and, coal-scuttle in hand, braced 
herself against the door. " It ’s odd, but I do remem- 
ber. She said one day that she was going to Flor- 
ence, and she wrote afterwards to the lady I was 


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151 


with that she was living on the Yia Pandolfini. I 
remember it, because we lived there once our- 
selves.” 

”What was the number?” the doctor asked, 
eagerly. 

” Bless me! I forgot that long ago,” said the 
maid, laughing, and swinging the scuttle against the 
door to hear it click. 

She sang to herself as she went down the hall, and 
laughed the next morning when told that the rooms 
had been vacated, and that Dr. Carleton was gone. 


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CHAPTER XVII. 

HERE ? Why, to a distant city, with damp 



▼ ▼ streets, dark and dull, winding away without 
system ; with gloomy, ' gray houses, mounting to 
meet the sky far up above them ; with windows set 
in the dingy walls like swallows’ nests in a south- 
sloping sand-hill ; with huge doors, all dust-grimed, 
down on the pavements, gloomy and ghastly as 
gravestones, with ponderous bell-pulls, horses’ heads 
and lions’ heads, and doors having noble old Xero- 
day knockers and great, ungainly iron knobs ; with 
gas lamps guarding the doorways, one poised over 
each of them, ungainly and grim, till the sun sets, 
then red and lurid ; with a broad square, all fancy 
booths and bewildering shop-windows, and a grand 
cathedral church right in the centre, all a great dome 
and pinnacles, and the Santa Reparata ringing in 
Giotto’s Campanile over those wonderful works of 
art, those great bronze doors of the baptistry. 

Then come cold streets again ; cold in midsummer ; 
and sombre gray palaces, more like prisons but for 
the great marble pillars, and the grand, gloomy 
court, with huge gods and lions guarding it ; and the 
great porch opposite, Loggia di Lanza, nothing but 
roof and floor, and mammoth marble groups between 
them. 


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153 


Then sunshine again, and a broad river ; stone ram- 
parts guarding it ; bridges, — one, two, three, four of 
them crossing the current ; a beautiful broad avenue, 
from sunrise to sunset, skirting the river ; river wall 
on one side, wonderful show-windows on the other ; 
one long line of gleaming glass, and behind it lovely 
pink coral, microscopic mosaics, a maze of white 
meerschaum, magnificent in curious and costly carv- 
ing, tiers of true amber and beautiful blue turquoise ; 
coaches crowding the avenue ; lords, ladies, and lack- 
eys whirling away to the incomparable Cascine ; 
sidewalks all crowded, too ; brigands and beggars, 
merchants and mendicants, black eyes and black, 
curling hair, tinkling tongues telling of pains and 
pleasures in the most melodious of languages ; crip- 
ples, miserable cripples, asking alms ; children chat- 
tering like magpies in the morning ; sky of the 
purest, unfathomable blue, deepening toward the 
horizon ; and over the river and on the hill, San 
Miniato, white and still, looking down forever upon 
beautiful Florence. 

Such was the rambling impression made upon Os- 
good Carleton, as he wound his way from the railway 
station to the Via Pandolfini in Florence, early in 
the new year. He found it easy to locate the build- 
ing he was looking for, there being but one promi- 
nent ^pension on the street; yet he approached it 
with many misgivings. He was hardly sure if even 
such excuses as he could ofier would be sufficient to 
reclaim his sister’s confidence, but he was not so 
near a trial of her faith as he had thought. His in- 


154 


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quiiy was hardly made when he was told that Maime 
had spent nearly a year and a half there, but left a 
month before. A week was spent to discover that 
she took the train for Roihe. The driver was found 
who carried the lady and maid from the station in 
Rome, but he had forgotten where. 

Rome was searched through and through, from 
turret to foundation-stone, and all in vain. The most 
efficient detective force of Italy was enlisted in the 
endeavor, and advertisements were freely circulated 
through the press. Three weeks went by, when a 
reply came up from Naples that some one answering 
the description had been living there. The next 
morning found Dr. Carleton on the spot ; but it was 
a lady and her husband, and they had gone from Na- 
ples two weeks before. For one moment the temp- 
tation was strong to give up in despair. Give up ! 
Dr. Carleton renewed the search. The Italian hotel- 
keeper was too anxious for the proffered reward to 
let it slip easily. He was positive that he had the trace 
of the person described. He followed Dr. Carleton 
back to Rome. He found him at the police head- 
quarters. He produced the signature of the lady’s 
husband, " Joseph Brandon.” There was nothing in 
that to assist his case. He displayed a handkerchief 
which the lady had forgotten. It was a lace of ele- 
gant design, and there might be something familiar 
in the outline, which perhaps caused a momentary at- 
tention ; but of all things pertaining to a lady, her 
lace handkerchief is certainly the very last article 
which a man could by any possibility remember. Dr. 


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155 


Carleton returned it to the Italian with a pitying 
smile. 

"It is very kind of you,” he said, " to take this 
trouble, and I Avill pay your expenses in return. But 
you are mistaken.” 

Other replies were forwarded and followed as ea- 
gerly and fruitlessly. 

Early one morning the hotel-keeper from Naples 
appeared again. This time Dr. Carleton met him 
with a frown. 

"Begging the gentleman’s pardon,” he said, "if I 
am wrong the expense is to me. Did he notice 
a monogram worked in the lace of the handker- 
chief ? ” 

"I see no monogram,” replied Dr. Carleton, in- 
differently. 

"It is here, it is here!” exclaimed the Italian 
eagerly, pointing to one corner, and laying the fabric 
upon a black marble talkie. 

Osgood Carleton looked more carefully, and his 
face lost its indifference. On the delicate tissue, in 
the infinite grace of the mysterious texture, the 
letters "M. C.” were wrought in one corner of the 
handkerchief. 

There was no doubt of this testimony ; but Joseph 
Brandon and wife had left Naples for Brindisi. 

Now a new complication arose. Could Maime 
have married some stranger in Italy ? Dr. Carleton 
was on the point of turning back, when he re- 
membered that whatever Maime had done to find a 
protector, it was he who drove her to it. 


156 


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" She called on me to stand by her, and I have 
made no reply. No, I will find her, and I will 
forsrive her, whatever she has done. Poor little 
Maime ! ” he said, and started for Brindisi. 

The name ” Joseph Brandon ” was easier to find, 
yet it was only to follow, as before. They had 
sailed upon a steamer bound for Alexandria. 

On the way thither it occurred to Dr. Carleton 
that he was possibly only following a phantom, and 
that he might, after all, find that some slight mistake 
between the owner of the handkerchief and the wife 
of Joseph Brandon had led him on a fool’s errand. 
But it was the only clew that six weeks of indefatiga- 
ble searching had disclosed, and follow it he must. 

The second day of his search in Alexandria he 
learned that the couple had left for Cairo only two 
weeks before. So near, and such, a speedy discov- 
ery was an encouragement that Dr. Carleton found 
most welcome to his wearying energies, and with re- 
newed determination he sought that great city of 
all people through. 

In one of the principal hotels he found the names. 
He had not even looked for them there till other 
resorts had failed ; for from its very prominence 
he judged it impossible that one seeking to hide him- 
self could have selected it. It was evident that there 
was no desire for concealment in their actions ; and 
yet this constant wandering and continual stepping 
farther and farther away, with no apparent cause and 
no apparent haste, bafiled all the reasoning of his 
system and philosophy. Three days before they had 


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157 


left for Ismalia. Why was it ? It was as unlike the 
Maime of Carleton Cottage as day and night. Even 
at this climax he was sorely tempted to' give up 
the search, and go back to America. It seemed im- 
possible that the phantom he was following could 
be his sister. What motive could urge her to such 
unaccountable actions? At the railway station he 
paused. Two trains stood there waiting. In a mo- 
ment more one of them would start for Alexandria, 
and the other for Ismalia. Which should he take? 

" Only three days ago,” he said to himself. " Three 
days. I had better see it to the end. ” 

He went directly to the only large hotel, upon 
reaching Ismalia ; and there, as he expected, he found 
their names, registered in a bold hand. He handed 
the proprietor his card, and asked for an interview 
with Mr. Joseph Brandon and his wife, but his hand 
trembled, and he was obliged to repeat the question 
before he made himself understood. 

The proprietor looked at the card, looked at the 
name in the register, shrugged his shoulders, and 
smiling politely, replied, ”They left this morning 
upon the little canal steamer for Suez.” 

Dr. Carleton sank upon the bamboo divan, sick 
at heart. Politely enough the proprietor asked if 
he would have a room, but he did not hear. A little 
later he suggested that the couple probably intended 
taking a steamer which sailed from Suez, in the morn- 
ino\ for India. He wondered if he had heard that. 

Without noticing the puzzled proprietor. Dr. Carle- 
ton left the hotel, and found his way alone to the rail- 


158 


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way station. He was surely the first person with 
eyes and ears who ever wended his way through 
those sandy streets neither seeing nor hearing the 
scores of carnal Arabs, vociferously shouting the 
virtues of their woe-begone little donkeys. He 
heard nothing, saw nothing. 

It was dark when he reached the sand-buried sta- 
tion. He knew nothing about the trains, but as he 
entered, one was waiting there to start for Suez. 
Almost unconsciously he moved up to the ticket 
office, just as he would have done had the train been 
bound for Cairo. The officer almost closed the win- 
dow in his face, mistaking him for one of the indiffer- 
ent townspeople waiting for arrivals, when he mut- 
tered " Suez,” and mechanically laid an English sov- 
ereign on the ledge. 


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159 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

" |~T URRY ! ” said the guard. But he did not 
hurry. He would not have lifted a finger to 
stop the train had he seen it moving out of the sta- 
tion. An officer was closing the last carriage door, 
when, seeing Dr. Carleton, he waited for him to en- 
ter. Four men occupied the compartment. They 
had doubtless come through from Alexandria. Three 
sat upon one seat, the fourth had stretched himself 
at full length opposite. It was impossible, in the 
dim light of the car lamp, to distinguish the features 
of any of the occupants ; but Dr. Carleton’s rigid 
idea of justice led him, unconsciously, to turn to the 
latter side for a seat. The man did not move, but 
inclined his head toward the other seat, as if to indi- 
cate that there was still room there for one more. 

Dr. Carleton’s temper had not been improved in 
the last months, and, possibly without sufficient argu- 
ment, he abruptly caught the extended feet with his 
cane, and threw them to the floor. 

” America,” said one of the shadows on the oppo- 
site seat. 

"Versus England,” replied another.. 

There was something painfully familiar in the 
figure that suddenly rose up before him ; but before 
Dr. Carleton could penetrate the shadows which the 


160 


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hat threw over the face, and define the faint outline 
beneath it, the man suddenly and silently turned 
away, pulled his hat farther over his forehead, and 
sullenly seated himself in the distant corner. 

Dr. Carleton was satisfied, and, seating himself, he 
utterly forgot the existence of the rest. ' 

The three men opposite began a conversation upon 
their prospects, and the possibility that they might 
not reach Suez in time for the steamer. She was to 
sail at the unusually early hour of six in the morn- 
ing. The train was an extra appointed to meet her, 
and was due at Suez at four, and at the wharf at half 
past. But already an hour had been lost, and there 
is many a slip between the cup and the lip when one 
is at Alexandria and the other at Suez. The wind 
was hicrh and rising. The three commented anx- 
iously upon it. The two opposite said nothing. If 
Dr. Carleton heard the conversation, he hardly heeded 
it. AYhat did it matter to him whether they reached 
the steamer or not ? One less interested would have 
supposed it mattered everything ; yet as he looked 
at it through the morbid gloom that had been gather- 
ing about him, it mattered nothing at all. He had 
run upon a fool’s errand. What harm if, like a 
fool, he let it fall through at last. The gentleman 
opposite him raised the window. A gust of wind 
swept in and covered him with sand. He closed it 
with a struggle, and looked ominously at the others. 
All were silent. It was evident that the wind had 
already caught up the sand, and was drifting it. The 
sight was a novel one, and Dr. Carleton raised his 


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161 


window a moment later. He was glad to shut it 
without making a long investigation. 

As he brushed the sand from his clothes, he beo-an 
to reason with himself. From the very first of his 
'search it seemed as though all the fates of Provi- 
dence had been opposed to him. The opposition 
stimulated in him a new desire for success. Some- 
what more anxiously he opened the window again a 
few minutes later. The wind was still rising, and 
the drift of sand driven through the opening was 
thicker than before. The train began to labor and 
move more slowly, and the throbbing of the engine 
showed that it was working harder and harder ; but 
the greater the possibility of failure became, so much 
the more determined was Dr. Carleton to succeed. 

Now the dim light wdthin showed that the window 
was crusted with a solid coat of sand like frost, and 
the train crept on laboriously, while the ferocity of 
the wind seemed every moment increasing. The 
carriage rocked and trembled. Then as never 
before it appeared to Osgood Carleton that he must 
succeed ; that, come what might and do it how he 
might, he must reach that steamer at Suez before she 
left her moorings. Almost fiercely he muttered to 
himself, " I will I ” 

But the train stood still. There w’as nothing but 
the sand-drifts that could have stopped it between 
Ismalia and Suez, and the blank faces in the com- 
partment clearly indicated the conviction that the 
engine had given up the fight. Then for the first 
time the silent figure alone in the corner opened the 


162 


THE ONI.Y ONE. 


window and looked out. As the wind came from the 
opposite direction, he had a comparatively clear vision 
for a little way. 

Closely protected by the cars, lanterns were shim- 
mering red and a pale blue through the sandy mist, 
filling even that comparatively still air. The guards 
were anxiously moving to and fro. The chief passed 
under the window. The silent man hailed him. 
AYith an angry frown he put his face to the window. 
The lantern lit it up with a livid glare. He was evi- 
dently in haste, but the man spoke as indifferently as 
one would comment upon tho weather : " What is 

the prospect now ? ” 

Possibly aware that politeness is a reasonable com- 
modity, the oflicer struggled to answer him civilly : 
*'The prospect, sir, is very bad.” 

He turned from the window, but the passenger 
called him back, and with a more decided frown he 
waited the leisurely inquiry, " Is there any chance of 
getting the train through ? ” 

"Just, and no more,” the officer replied, more 
sharply. He would have gone this time, but the pas- 
senger held him by the sleeve. 

"Would money make the mare go?” he asked. 
Each word he spoke sent a shudder through Dr. 
Carleton’s veins. He listened intently, and won- 
dered why. 

" Money enough to clear away the sand and stop 
the storm ” the officer replied, curtly. " Let me go. 
I must be about my business, which is not answering 
your questions.” 


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163 


The passenger did not appear to have heard the 
last, for he spoke as slowly as before : " If money 
will do it, here is a hundred pounds, which I will 
give you in Suez any time before six o’clock to- 
morrow morning. These gentlemen are strangers to 
me, but they will witness the offer.” 

Osgood Carleton never knew what impelled him 
to speak at that moment ; but, turning to the guard, 
he said, " I will double the offer.” 

The officer, well satisfied that he had not been too 
officious, replied, "Gentlemen, if fire and water can 
do it, you shall reach Suez in time for the steamer.” 

The engine felt the force of the argument, and 
started on its way again. Hundreds of hearts upon 
the train were instantly relieved of a heavy weight 
of anxiety ; but very few amongst them knew to what 
and whom their thanks were due. 

At first it seemed impossible to advance, but the 
train was under headway with every pound of steam 
that the boiler would bear ; and, despite the howling 
hurricane and the drifts of sand, the " extra ” whirled 
along at a rate that under the most favorable cir- 
cumstances might have been dangerous. In speed 
lay the only hope of cutting through, and for nearly 
half an hour they seemed almost to rival the roaring 
wind in its rapid motion. 

Then the compartment in which the five were 
seated seemed suddenly to rise into the air, as though 
it had even found wings to accomplish the wishes 
of the occupants. It was only for an instant. The 
effort was a failure, and in the reaction the entire train 


164 


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lay floundering in the sand. A hopeless wreck was 
all that was left to witness against the officer who 
would have won three hundred pounds. 

Out of the wreck came Osgood Carleton and his 
neighbor uninjured. But the sand blew in such 
overpowering, suffocating drifts that the doctor was 
glad to seek the first shelter that offered itself, and 
under the lee of a part of the wreck, to sit down and 
await the chances of the night. All was lost. Ac- 
tion was useless. He wondered, as he sat there, if 
it were possible that He whose servants were those 
raging winds, and to whom the sand of the desert ac- 
knowledged allegiance, could be determined to thwart 
him in his search. 

As if to cry for quarter from Him who alone was 
able to give it, he opened his eyes and looked up- 
ward. Unnoticed by him in his shelter, the storm 
had abated ; and, as he raised his eyes, through a break 
in the sand-clouds, which were rapidly subsiding, a 
bright star shot from the zenith, and disappeared low 
on the horizon in the direction of Suez. It needed 
no very superstitious mind to see in such a thing at 
such a time an omen of some sort. But of what 
was it ominous ? 

This question occupied Dr. Carleton’s thoughts as 
he sat with his head bowed upon his knees, when a 
metallically musical voice sounded in his ears. There 
was no emotion, no anger or hatred evident, as it 
said, — 

"Dr. Carleton, we were too much in haste to reach 
Suez. It is not well that both of us should be there, 


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165 


either now or later. We have met as enemies, 
let us part forever. We need no seconds or wit- 
nesses. We will walk a mile away upon the sand, 
and practice upon each other until one of us falls 
dead. It will while the time away, and one of us 
will forget this disappointment.” 

Dr. Carleton looked up. The form of the man he 
had insulted in the car was bending over him. In 
the gathering light, as the moon pierced the thinner 
tissue of sinking sand, the white teeth glistened and 
the lips were parted with a smile. He sprang to his 
feet. "Edgar Stanley ! ” he exclaimed. "Yes, you 
are right ; we meet as enemies, and this world is not 
large enough for us both to live in it. But I have no 
weapon here, and my business in Suez is more im- 
portant than my pride. I will not meet you now ; 
but, so sure as I accomplish what I am intent upon, 
then I will render you such satisfaction as may be 
pleasing to both of us. Away with you till then ! ” 

Sir Edgar smiled, and scarcely louder than he had 
spoken before, he replied, "Delays are dangerous. 
Fight with me here, or by my life you shall not see 
Suez ! I have more pistols than we two shall want 
just forward in the baggage van.” 

Osgood Carleton simply replied, " Go forward and 
get them ; I will meet you now.” And the figure of 
Sir Edgar left him without another word. 

Ten minutes he waited, but his enemy did not 
appear. He doubtless had some difficulty in finding 
his baggage. The doctor rose, and walked slowly 
toward the front of the wreck. The storm had now 


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abated, and, as be went, he saw beyond mistake that 
the engine was slowly moving away upon the track. 
They had evidently righted her, and she was going 
alone to Suez. Without a moment’s thought he 
sprang forward, ran as for his life, and before she 
had floundered through the drifts and gained a firm 
hold upon the track he was clinging to the tender- 
chain. She moved more rapidly. 

The storm had evidently been but a local one, and, 
before he had gained his breath to call for help or move 
from his precarious position, the engine was upon 
a smooth rail, and whirling onward like the very wind. 
To have gained assistance would have been impossi- 
ble. Clinojing with one hand to the swinging cab he 
wound the loose chain about him, and caught the 
broken link, finding a partial rest for one foot, while 
clinging with his hands he gasped for breath, and 
began to estimate the possibilities of his physical en- 
durance. He clearly saw that unless the terrible 
emergency should provide him with a strength that 
is often heralded as supernatural, he must certainly 
fall, and, as Sir Edgar had threatened, never reach 
Suez. Faster and faster the engine flew, but with 
each revolution of the wheels his determination be- 
came stronger. 

It might have been more rational for him to have 
said, "What if I do not reach the steamer? I shall 
be but two weeks behind if I take the next.” But in 
the excitement of the moment he lost sight of the real 
object in grim determination to reach Suez. More 
than once his foot was shaken from the ledge, and he 


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167 


felt instinctively that the time would soon come when 
it would be impossible for him to replace it. But 
gradually the energy of his will subsided. The pain 
of the position became less defined. His thoughts 
came and went in a more random way. His head 
fell helplessly forward, and his body lay heavily in 
the chain. 

"I am going to Suez,” he muttered ; and the jolt- 
ing of the tender took up the sentence, and seemed 
forever repeating, ” Going to Suez I Going to Suez ! 
Going to Suez ! ” Then he wondered if he were 
really going to Suez, or if it were only a dream. It 
w^as more like a dream, after all ; for now he thought 
he heard the night watchman pounding upon his 
door. 

” I am going to Suez ! ” he shouted ; then he 
laughed at himself, and replied, "No ! no ! I mean I 
am coming. Stop your pounding ! I ’m awake ! ” He 
struggled to throw oflT the drowsiness that stubbornly 
refused to leave him. It was for something im- 
portant that he was being called ; but what it was he 
had forgotten, and, in spite of the conviction, he was 
much inclined to let it go, while he turned over for 
another nap. 

But still the watchman kept on pounding ; and sud- 
denly it occurred to him that he had failed to keep 
his appointment with Sir Edgar, and that doubtless 
Sir Edgar had sent for him. 

" Tell him I ’ll be there ! Did n’t I say I would ? ” 
he shouted, and made another frantic effort to rouse 
himself. 


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Then a bright light flashed before his eyes. 

” Kobbers ! ” he ejaculated ; but in the light he 
saw the figure of Sir Edgar, and realized that he had 
hidden in his room, and was there to murder him. 

Again the light flashed, and he woke to find him- 
self struo^^ling in the chain that bound him to the 
cab, with the red sun rising out of the desert under 
a dense cloud. The water was on one side and Suez 
on the other. 

How strangely that old gray sandstone town 
looked to him in that early morning light ! How 
cold and numb he felt, and how he wondered what 
power had held him in that precarious position 
through that strange stupor which in reality had 
doubtless saved his life ! The engine had won the 
victory for him, and was slowly coming to a stop. 
It was action now, and action instantly. But for 
what? It seemed utterly immaterial to him now. 
He could not understand why he had ever cared 
about reaching that steamer. If Maime were there, 
it was because she wished to be. What had he to 
do about it ? And at best it was but a supposition 
of the hotel-keeper at Ismalia that she might have 
taken it. He moved in his chain, and the relief was 
so great that he was almost tempted to sleep again. 
But the engine stopped. He loosened the chain, and 
fell helplessly to the ground. 

Gaining his feet, he looked about him. Morning 
was faintly breaking, but the sun had hidden behind 
the cloud. There was no station, no building near 
at hand. He crossed the track, and stood upon the 


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169 


water’s edge. The engine backed on to a switch, and 
pushed away in the direction of Suez. He knew 
that the steamer must lie at the docks far down the 
water in the opposite direction ; but in the fog that 
was gathering he could see nothing, and stood there 
quite uncertain as to whether it was worth his while 
to try further. A carriage-road crossed the track at 
a little distance. He could not see where it went ; 
but as he stood watching it, vaguely wondering how 
soon any one would pass, a cab drew up, and, before 
his eyes, beyond the shadow of a doubt, Edgar Stan- 
ley entered it, and was driven hastily aAvay. 

''Great God!” he muttered, suddenly compre- 
hending the cause of his sister’s flight, and the object 
of Sir Edgar’s presence ; and, wondering that he had 
not thought of it before, he added, "I must be there 
if he is I Yes, and I will / ” 

A lonely Arab jogged slowly down the track. 
There was no one else in sight. He looked at his 
watch. It w'as half past five. He called to the Arab, 
and said, "I want to go to the steamer for Bombay.” 

" Stimmer Bombay, stimmer Bombay 1 Yes, 
yes I ” replied the Arab, pointing in the direction 
taken by the cab in a way to indicate that he had no 
time to spare. 

" How far is it ? ” 

"Yes, yes,” replied the Arab, urging him on, but 
evidently knowing no more of English. Dr. Carle- 
ton started down the track as rapidly as his stifiened 
legs would carry him. Soon the road began to di- 
verge perceptibly from the track, and, in hope of 


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receiving some assistance upon the former, he left the 
rails. A mule, laden heavily with fresh dates, came 
out of the mists. A gaunt and weary-looking woman 
drove the mule, and he began to bargain with her 
for the animal. Alas, she understood less than the 
man ! In despair he gave her a sovereign, threw 
the bags of dates upon the ground, and, while she 
stood by in horror, he mounted the mule and rode 
away. 

For a few moments the frightened creature almost 
rivalled the engine in its flight ; but when the woman 
was well out of sight, and only the endless sand lay 
about him, the animal came to his senses and stood 
still. 

It was an absurd adventure, and the unfortunate 
rider smiled grimly as he bent his angry joints, dis- 
mounted, and walked away. 

For ten minutes each, muscle was driven to its ut- 
most ; then, like the mule, they began to rebel. He 
was ready to fall, when a carriage appeared in the 
distance, and gave him strength. As he approached 
it, however, he recognized to his horror the same 
which had left the crossing with Sir Edgar. One 
could hardly call it cowardice that his heart should 
fail him then. He was in no condition to face that 
man ; still he pushed a little nearer, and as he ap- 
proached he discovered that it was a wreck. 

The driver understood a little English, just enough 
to indicate that his passenger had taken to the track. 
He made him an offer for his horse, which was read- 
ily accepted, and again Dr. Carleton was mounted. 


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171 


He rode a mile or more, and again looked at his 
watch. It wanted but seven minutes of six o’clock 
by Cairo time, upon which the steamer would 
sail. Seven minutes ! There was nothino; but sand 
in sight. The horse was intolerably slow ; and, just 
before him, the road turned away from the track 
again, this time extending far into the fog-banks, in 
directly the opposite direction. He felt sure that he 
must have passed Sir Edgar ; and, with chances 
which were certainly better than his enemy’s, he left 
the horse in the road and was again walking on the 
track. Soon he detected a sharp clicking along the 
rails, warning him of an approaching train. 

It was just two minutes before six. The train 
was coming from the wharf. Surely Sir Edgar was 
not before him, or he would have stopped the train 
wdiatever it was. It proved to be only an engine 
and two freight cars. Dr. Carleton stood between 
the rails, and frantically waved his hat. 

The train stopped. The driver swore a great Eng- 
lish oath, and asked him what he wanted. He hailed 
that oath with a cry of joy, and, mounting the steps, 
he emptied upon the seat of the cab the last pieces of 
gold from a purse that had been filled with a view to 
meeting many emergencies. 

"Take it ! ” he gasped " I must reach the steamer 
for Bombay.” 

The engineer looked at him in amazement for a 
moment ; then with a smile reversed the movement, 
and the freight train started toward the wharf. 

Dr. Carleton sank helplessly upon the vacant bench. 


172 


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” Thank you,” he muttered faintly. He looked at 
his watch again. It was six o’clock. 

” I ’m only a takin’ ye back t’ the wharf,” said the 
engineer, after he had pocketed the gold, ”fur the 
steamer must ’a’ started afore this time. The bell 
rung es we left.” 

" Never mind, never mind ! ” groaned Dr. Carle- 
ton ; " only get me to the wharf as quickly as you 
can.” 

"I’ll do it,” said the engineer, and the train 
moved faster. 

They were just upon the wharf when Dr. Carle- 
ton asked, " Did you pass any one on the track, as 
you came out, who might have reached here in time 
to have taken the steamer ? ” 

"Not a sign but the hand-car bringin’ the purser,” 
said the engineer ; and, without waiting for the wheels 
to stop, the doctor leaped upon the platform and ran 
toward the moorings. 

A sheet of blue water washing restlessly against 
the pier, little white-caps, and disturbed eddies, and 
a line of froth that swung on the waves lay between 
him and the retreating steamer, nearly twenty rods 
away. ^ 

" Is there any way that I can reach her ? ” he asked 
the wharf-master, who was lazily smoking. 

" Why wer’ n’t ye earlier ? ” asked the official 
rudely. 

Dr. Carleton could have strangled him, but the 
importance of the moment prevailed. He put his 
hand in his pocket, and shuddered as he remembered 


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173 


that the purse was empty. An instant later he had 
caught his watch, dragged it from the chain, and 
holding it in the air exclaimed, "This to the man 
who will put me on board that steamer ! ” 

"I’m yer man,” growled a well-tanned tar, leaping 
to his feet. " Follow .me lively, now,” and he slipped 
over the side of the wharf and into a small boat, fol- 
lowed closely by his passenger. 

A moment later they were shooting over the 
water, rapidly lessening the distance between them 
and the steamer. 

"I have been a fool !” said Dr. Carleton, as he sat 
in the stern, with nothing to do but watch the oars. 
"I have lost my head ; and, worse than that, I have 
lost it for nothing. ” Then he waited and watched 
the oars again, and thought he would not give five 
cents to reach that steamer. But while he watched 
she moved more rapidly, getting under headway. 

The boatman looked over his shoulder. 

" Shiver my timbers ! I b’li’ve she ’ll win ! ” he 
gasped, and pulled till the oars bent and trembled. 
He groaned and tugged, but to no purpose. 

Suddenly rousing to the fact that he was being 
beaten at the last. Dr. Carleton grasped a pair of 
oars lying in the bottom of the boat, and, placing them 
in the rowlocks, he who would not have given five 
cents to have been safe on board, pulled with an 
energy that inspired even the weather-worn arms of 
the sailor behind him. 

Together they won the day, and, wet with per- 
spiration, trembling in every nerve from the terrible 


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exertions of the last six hours, Dr. Carleton stood 
upon the deck of the steamer for Bombay. 

Had he failed it would have been the first time 
in his life that Osgood Carleton had felt the force of 
that unfortunate word. But without waiting to con- 
gratulate himself, he sought the chief steward, and 
asked the fatal question. 

Joseph Brandon and wife were not upon the 
steamer. 

Fortunately Dr. Carleton was still supplied with an 
abundance of English circular notes ; and, securing 
a state-room, overcome by chagrin and fatigue, he 
entered, to remain in his berth till the steamer 
dropped anchor at Aden, the great coaling point half- 
way between Suez and Bombay. 


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175 


CHAPTER XIX. 


HE deep throbbing of the machinery was still. 



J- The anchor lay at rest among the coral reefs. 
Aden, bleak and bare, with its stone huts, its great, 
incomprehensible tanks, its ruins that no one can 
explain, its craggy hills, its barren fields, its rainless 
sky, its row of coal barges along the bund, its scat- 
tering shipping in the bay, its still water and dor- 
mant fishermen ; its throng of children, naked to the 
skin, swimming, swimming, swimming all day long 
without respite or refreshment, like so many little 
brown water-babies, about the steamer, diving to 
any depth for coppers that the passengers throw over 
to them, going down, all of them, for every piece, 
and never losing a farthing ; coming up, all of them, 
as soon as some one has secured the prize ; lying 
about in the water, laughing and chatting in that old, 
old language, so fierce and horrible when one hears 
the Bedouin shout in the desert at night. All this 
and much more, Aden, with its great rock-locked 
harbor lay just to the lee, and the steamer was an- 
chored in the bay. 

The horrible noise of coaling drove Dr. Carleton 
from his state-room ; and, as he stood upon deck, look- 
ing at that curious anomaly called Aden, a chord of 
sympathy thrilled and vibrated in his being. He 


17G 


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was seized with a longing to stand upon the barren 
soil of that miserable Arab city, and to cry, ”Lo, 
here ! I am thy brother.” And the longer he looked 
at that lonely, shivering town the more he longed to 
be in it. 

A gaunt Arab boatman stood by the rail, pitifully 
pleading for a passenger to row ashore. Osgood 
Carleton followed him silently, and reached the shore 
without once looking back toward the steamer. He 
sought first the only European clothiers, and so far 
as possible renewed his dilapidated outfit ; then en- 
tering one of the proverbially low and narrow car- 
riages of Aden, he ordered the driver to carry him 
anywhere, anywhere in the world. The driver sat 
down at his passenger’s feet, and the old horse moved 
oflT upon the usual round, without more definite di- 
rection than his master had received. There is only 
one way to go at Aden. 

At one place after another the well-trained and 
poorly fed animal waited of his own free will, while 
the driver dismounted and talked to his passenger in 
a sort of nondescript, which he supposed to be Eng- 
lish ; until he discovered that the words were un- 
heeded as well as the wonders of Aden. Then he 
lapsed into silence. 

At last they arrived at an old hostelry, where trav- 
ellers always stopped for refreshment, and where the 
hired horses were always fed. 

Some mutual understanding must be arrived at 
here ; for the old horse knew better than to move an- 
other inch, whether the passenger wished to stop or 
not. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


177 


The driver talked and gesticulated all in vain. Dr. 
Carleton’s thoughts were far away from the old hos- 
telry. At last, however, the driver alighted and 
began to feed the horse. This was more to the point ; 
and Dr. Carleton alighted, too, but he did not enter 
the hostelry. It was a low, vile, uninviting place. 
What had he to do in there ? Nothing. He walked 
away over the rocks beyond. 

He had not gone far when a voice behind him 
spoke his name, and, turning in surprise. Dr. Carle- 
ton discovered the smiling face and tall and graceful 
figure of Sir Edgar Stanley. 

” Good heavens ! Not now ! ” he gasped. But 
Sir Edgar only smiled, and presented for his choice 
two worthy revolvers. 

” Examine them. Take your choice, — they are 
alike. Here is a fresh box of cartridges. Load to 
please yourself.” 

Dr. Carleton took one of the two pistols and the 
box of cartridges, and loaded the six chambers with- 
out a word. 

What did he care whether he lived or died ? or, if 
he died, what if it were out upon the barren plain of 
Arabia ? 

" Now, if you are satisfied,” said Sir Edgar, '' walk 
away ten paces from this rock. I will put a little 
powder upon it, light a slow-match, and walk 
aw-ay as far in the opposite direction. When the 
powder flashes, we will open fire. If the six balls 
are not enough, we will load again. It will be more 
honorable than the trick you played upon me as m^^ 


178 


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German butler, or one which I might have played 
upon you five minutes ago, if I had been treacherous 
enough.” His red lips curved scornfully. 

Dr. Carleton stood in position. The slow match 
was lighted by a hand so steady that even the tiny 
flame did not flicker. And, as calmly as though tak- 
ing his place for a game. Sir Edgar counted the paces, 
and faced his enemy. With pistols ready for instant 
use, the two men watched the progress of the spark 
along the slow match. 

How fitfully the fire crept on ! Suddenly there 
was a little flash. Each man started, but it was only 
the slow-match, and with the flash it lost the fire. 
Sir Edgar laid his pistol carefully upon the ground, 
and, walking deliberately forward, lighted the slow- 
match and returned. But this time his step was less 
firm. The accident had disturbed him. He raised 
his pistol as though he would have fired even before 
the rock gave the signal. Then he dropped it again, 
and endeavored to collect himself. He stood with 
his weight upon one foot, then on the other, and 
eagerly looked at the slow-match. He was losing 
self-possession even more rapidly than Osgood Carle- 
ton w^as gaining it. 

Suddenly the flash came. Sir Edgar started, as 
though he had not expected it. His ball entered the 
ground, not five feet from where he stood He 
staggered for an instant, as though his enemy’s shot 
had already taken effect ; then he hastily prepared 
to fire again. He lifted his pistol and looked up. But 
he stopped in the act. His hand fell at his side. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


179 


He looked at his antagonist in astonishment, for he 
stood precisely as he had while waiting for the signal. 
Evidently he had neither fired nor moved. 

" Did not the powder flash ? ” muttered Sir Edgar. 

" I think so,” replied Dr. Carleton, calmly. 

'' Are you going to fire ? ” 

” No ! ” 

" Why not ? ” 

”I should gain nothing by killing you,” Dr. Carle- 
ton replied, so calmly that for a moment even Sir 
Edgar forgot himself. 

The next instant, however, the Englishman ex- 
claimed, ”I swear that you shall fire, or die where 
you stand without firing ! ” 

He lifted his pistol. 

" Fire ! ” said Dr. Carleton, calmly, throwing his 
pistol on the ground, and^quietly folding his arms. 

Sir Edgar hesitated. It took something more — 
or less — than he possessed to shoot a man in that 
condition. " If you will spend to-night in Aden,” he 
said, *'Iam willing to call our difficulties off.” 

" I have no mind to strike a bargain with such as 
you,” replied Dr. Carleton, without moving. "Be 
assured that your company is so little to my taste 
that if you stay in Aden to-night I shall go on to 
Bombay, if I live ; and if you should go on I shall 
stay here, whether a man or a corpse.” 

" Agreed ! ” exclaimed Sir Edgar, " once more we 
are friends ! Now tell me how the devil you reached 
this place. When I left you in that Egyptian sand, 
to hunt for these pistols, I found the engine ready to 


180 


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start on alone for Suez, and, thinking more of meet- 
ing that steamer than I did of killing you, I dropped 
the subject, pocketed the pistols, and got into the cab. 
I took the only hack upon the road at Suez, and 
started for the wharf. It broke down with me, and I 
took to the track. Thank heaven, a hand-car came 
along, carrying the purser to the steamer, and took 
me in. The ropes were swung loose the moment we 
were on board ; and you may judge my surprise when 
I saw you on deck, watching those God-forsaken 
children swim, this morning. To tell the truth, as a 
friend, I rather hated to kill you till my curiosity had 
been appeased, and I knew how the devil you got 
yourself here.” 

" Edgar Stanley,” said Dr. Carleton, ” you have 
named terms of peace. I have accepted them. 
They are that we part. I bid you good day.” He 
turned abruptly in the opposite direction and walked 
away. 

Sir Edgar smiled, went back to Aden, and, as the 
sun was setting, sailed away upon the steamer, while 
Osgood Carleton began the task of waiting for the 
next mail to carry him back to Suez. 

At last two days had passed. With the length of 
such, one might measure eternity. The bunder and 
the shipping on the bay were the only signs of life, 
and to those Dr. Carleton turned in despair. That 
shivering town had not the fascination of sympathy, 
after all. 

The second evening came with its soft breeze to 
cool the heated coast. A short distance before him, 


THE ONLY ONE. 


181 


on the street, Dr. Carleton saw a couple in English 
dress. All his life long he had hated the world, and 
longed for solitude. Aden had satisfied him.. He 
hastened toward the couple, wondering if he might 
not venture to speak with them. He hurried past 
them, and at a little distance turned to retrace his 
steps that he might see their faces, but they were 
gone. He sought in vain for them. 

Once again he met them, this time upon an old 
highway of the old Arab city, as far from the 
wharves as possible, and this time face to face. 
There was a low cry of terror, followed by an excla- 
mation of joy ; and Maime lay locked in her brother’s 


arms. 


182 


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CHAPTEE XX. 

T he night was not so terrible as the shadow it 
had cast before. It was all too short in which 
to tell and be told all that had transpired in twenty- 
two months that seemed a lifetime, — aweary, long 
one. 

Failing to find her brother, or to hear from him in 
Washington, Maime had sailed with a heavy heart 
for Europe, and in Florence tried to drown the sor- 
row that lay upon her like an evil dream ; so suddenly 
had it transformed her life from the loveliest of sun- 
light to the dark shadows that gave her not even the 
comforting assurance of hope. She had heard of 
her husband in Paris, and later that he had come to 
spend the winter in Florence. She had fled again, 
and found only a temporary refuge in Eome, to meet 
him one day upon the Corso. In all that motley mul- 
titude of high life and low, — of princes who live like 
paupers at home, that they niay throw their little sub- 
stances where they will be seen of men, and misers 
of fabulous wealth, who walked the streets in rags, 
pleasure-seekers, poison-mongers, great men and 
women, and numberless nonentities, — he recognized 
her, fastened his eyes upon her with that fearful 
smile, and followed her till by some almost super- 
human means she succeeded in avoiding him and 


THE ONLY ONE. 


183 


making her escape to Naples, where, under an as- 
sumed name, with her maid garnished as a man and 
acting as her husband, she had lived another month. 
Then she had cause to fear that he had again dis- 
covered her, and went even further from the world in 
order to escape him, and landed at Alexandria. By 
keeping herself informed of the incoming steamers, 
she heard of his approach, and went to Cairo. Still 
he followed her. Gaining the Bombay steamer by a 
circuitous route, she again changed every appearance, 
name, and identity, only to find him on board, and 
know that again he had penetrated her disguise. He 
never approached nearer, but haunted her day and 
night, incessantly keeping just so far away from her. 
She had only escaped him at last by bribing the offi- 
cer of luggage to assist her in landing just as the 
steamer weighed anchor. 

This was her story. Then a more important topic 
called upon them. Another step must be taken, and 
where should it lead them ? 

" Back to America,” said Osgood, decidedly. 

" How shall we get there?” Maime asked. "The 
next steamer will come from Bombay, and Sir Edgar 
will be upon it.” 

" We must seek legal protection, and then appeal 
for a divorce.” 

"Osgood, he has done nothing,” Maime replied, in 
a voice indicating that she had long ago probed 
that hope. "He did not desert me, I deserted him. 
He never harmed me. I drugged his wine. He has 
not so much as touched me once with the tips of his 


184 


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fingers. From what could I ask for protection ? For 
what could I get a divorce? No, Osgood, I’m so 
glad I have met you, and the past is all cleared up. 
That was the worst to me. Now you go back to 
America, and I will go somewhere until I have hidden 
myself. Then I will let you know all about it, and 
there I will remain.” 

"Maime,” said Osgood, in astonishment, "why do 
you talk like that? Is it not enough that I have 
found you to prove that I will not leave you ? But 
we must get ourselves back to America, Maime.” 

Maime shook her head. " All he wants is father’s 
property, and to keep me from Guy, Osgood, and — ’’ 

" The property ! ” exclaimed her brother, striking 
the table. " A happy thought, Maime ! That money- 
loving wretch can have it, — yours and mine, too! 
I never thought of that.” 

"Never!” said Maime, fiercely interrupting him. 
" It may be ill-gotten, Osgood ; but it shall go in a 
better cause than that ! God helping me, I shall 
place my money where it will ransom our father’s 
name before I die.” 

"Well, at least, Maime, don’t let us run from him 
like cowards. He shall suffer well if he disturb you 
again.” He drew her more closely to his breast. 
Her blue eyes turned lovingly to him, but she 
replied, — 

" You ’re a dear good brother, Osgood ; but you ’re 
very, very foolish about this. Of course we are not 
afraid of him. I really believe, if I tried hard, I 
could frighten that man all alone. But you forget he 


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185 


is my husband, and has a right to me ! ” Her brother 
shuddered. "The only course lying open to me is 
to place myself beyond his reach if possible. That 
I must do. You must not go with me unless you 
wish, Osgood.” 

" Of course I go, Maime ; but where? ” 

" AVe were thinking of that yesterday. A little 
steamer sails to-morrow for the Persian Gulf.” 

" The Persian Gulf, Maime ! Have you lost your 
wits ? ” 

" I think not, Osgood. It is beautiful sometimes. 
I could hardly expect to find it all of that, but 
certainly this is the best season of the year. The 
steamer to-morrow only goes to Bushire ; but there 
we can take another steamer, if we wish, which will 
carry us as far as Bagdad.” 

" Bagdad ! Bagdad ! Bagdad ! ” Osgood Carleton 
repeated. 

" You need not go unless you choose,” said Maime, 
again. "But if you go, remember that I warned you, 
here, that neither upon this side of Bagdad nor on 
the other, nor yet in Bagdad, shall we find a place to 
hide long from him, till he becomes weary of fol- 
lowing. I am ready to prophesy that before we 
reach Bagdad we shall meet him.” 

Dr. Carleton looked at the little figure in the old, 
wondering way. She had foretold the future. He 
felt it as emphatically as she. 

" You will go, then, Osgood ? ” she asked ; and, kiss- 
ing her good-night, he answered, — 

"Yes, Maime, we will go to Bagdad.” 


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CHAPTEE XXI. 

A s the sun was setting, the bleached and rocky 
barrenness of the south coast of Persia offered 
its customary welcome to the little British govern- 
ment steamer from Aden. Bassadore lay forsaken 
and lonely on the little island of Kishm to the left ; 
and far over the waters, where the pink and Tyrian 
cloud-mantle was gathering along the horizon, w^as 
the far-famed breakwater, built out into the sea to 
protect the thousands of curious craft that plied those 
waves, with which the Shirmal and the Sherki are 
ever wont to play. Beyond the breakwater, wrapped 
in the royal purple clouds, lay Linga, the great 
southern seaport town of Persia. All about Linga 
grew the date-palms ; and down at the feet of Linga, 
lying on the leisurely tide, which is slower to ebb and 
flow at Linga than anywhere else in the world, little 
boats and larger vessels and great ships that go down 
into the sea sank out of sight as the sun went down. 
It was a mailing port ; and Osgood Carleton, in pass- 
ing aft, noticed the boatman, who had brought out 
the pilot, stop and take a letter from the hand of the 
maid who had been of so much assistance to his 
sister. He wondered to whom she was writing; but 
it mattered little, and a moment later he had for- 


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187 


gotten the circumstance in watching the pearl-divers’ 
boats that lay anchored along the way. 

Then the moon came up out of the clouds that lay 
over Linga. The little steamer was nearer the shore 
now, and the orchards of almonds and oranges and 
the perfume of the pomegranates were easily dis- 
tinguishable. 

The steamer crept slowly through that forest of 
fishing craft lying off Linga, and morning found it 
still surrounded by the pearl dhows, with their Afri- 
can and Arab crews. One after another each of 
the six divers u[)on the dhows would draw up a 
heavy weight of hermatite, fastened by a strong cord 
to the oar-lock, and, grasping it in both hands, dive 
to the depth of twenty or thirty feet. Down in that 
marvellously clear water one could see even the ex- 
pression of the face, when the diver worked, rapidly 
searching for shells, filling if possible the little wire 
basket which hung at his belt, before the pressure of 
the water became so intense as to warn him that a 
minute, his utmost limit, had elapsed. 

Then, one after another, as they went down they 
all came up again, and, emptying their baskets, re- 
peated the struggle till a generous pile was gathered. 
Then they lay in the torrid sunshine, languidly 
smoking, watching their companions at the opposite 
end of the boat open the shells, and test the favor of 
Allah in what he had sent them. 

The passengers on the little steamer watched and 
marvelled as every stranger upon that wonderful sea 
watches and marvels. For year after year, age after 


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age, century after century, that multitude of divers 
has dripped with the waters of that hay. Century 
after century the shells have filled those little baskets 
and been destroyed, twenty at least for every pearl 
obtained ; and yet to-day, just as in the days of 
Babylon and Nineveh, and the proudest days of 
Pompeii, the world receives all it demands from an 
apparently inexhaustible supply. 

"Will it never fail?” asked Maime. 

"I fancy not,” replied the captain. "Last year 
three million dollars was realized as the first cost of 
the pearls which were exported.” 

But the perpetual pearl-divers were passed, and 
the steamer lay in the waveless waters of the Bushire 
bay. The regular steamer to the north would not 
leave for a week, but it mattered little. The week 
went by, and the maid was suddenly taken ilk Dr. 
Carleton had formed a strong dislike for this maid, 
who had followed Maime from the Stanley mansion ; 
but Maime only laughed at bis whims and, though he 
declared that there was nothing whatever the matter 
with the woman, Maime insisted upon yielding to 
her pitiful pleading that she should not be taken on 
board the steamer. They waited two weeks. 

Bushire was an intolerably dull town at its best, 
and, without regret, brother and sister watched the 
high range of mountains, skirting the almost treeless 
plain, sink into the mists from which they came three 
weeks before, and the mud walls, and the ungainly 
wind-towers, and the miserable and low flat roofs, 
and the shoal harbor, full of dry flats when the tide 
was out, followed the mountains into the mists. 


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189 


It was five hundred miles to Bagdad, — five hun- 
dred miles to the capital of that once great empire of 
the Caliphs, vs^orld-renowned for its wealth. Bagdad ! 
wrinkled and old and gray now. The muddy waters 
of the bubbling, brimming Tigris dashed against the 
steamer’s side. Dr. Carleton and his sister and the 
maid were the only passengers. Freight is plenty, 
but tourists are few, to and from the old city of 
Bagdad. At last they entered the vast, sandy plain 
that surrounds the city, with hardly green enough 
to cover the river banks, and. never a tree or a shrub 
broke the broad expanse. There was hardly a habi- 
table dwelling in the miles that the eye could cover 
at a single glance, and only the wrecks and the ruins 
of glories of centuries gone broke the inonotony of 
sand ; till, far away, like a speck on the horizon, lay 
the clouted relic that had once been the sandal and 
the crown of one of the greatest dynasties of the 
world. Old Bagdad of centuries and centuries ago 
was on the west bank of the river, and new Bagdad, 
a patriarch still among the cities of to-day, silently 
sat upon the east. Like a garden, overgi’own with 
weeds, seemed this goal of the wanderers, as they 
looked at it from afar ; for, as if to compensate for the 
utter lack beyond, the marvellous hand of man has 
filled its courts and its open squares so full of nature’s 
greenery that scarcely anything but the tree-tops and 
the evergreen foliage can be seen by one approach- 
ing on the Tigris. 

The current was strong. The river was nearly at 
its height, and surged and rushed onward as if to 


190 


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show what might be done if the treacherous water 
only chose. The heavily freighted steamer found 
progress difficult. She was not so stanch as the 
vessels that plied the gulf. The water was still ris- 
ing, and soon must overflow the banks and cover the 
immense desert. Its force would then be decreased. 
There was no haste except for the three passengers ; 
and, rather than risk his steamer in the current, the 
captain announced his intention to moor upon the 
west bank and wait for one day, or two or three, till 
the water should cover the plain. 

The sun set and the moon rose over the waste, and 
Bagdad old and new was lost in night. 

The captain informed Dr. Carleton that he should 
send despatches on to the city by messenger at once, 
and that, if his party wished to accompany him, he 
would secure mules for the whole. The prospect 
was rather attractive, and they rode away in high 
spirits. Both Maime and her brother were begin- 
ning to enjoy life again. 

The light of Asia is strangely soft and white at 
night, especially where it falls upon the heart of 
Persia. The mules glided on like phantoms, guided 
by the silent muleteers, almost as naked as the occu- 
pants of that first garden, on the neighboring Eu- 
phrates, before they transgressed. But the moon 
was sinking very low, and they were yet several 
miles, at least, from the city. The last lingering rays 
touched the broken masses of the ruins and the sand- 
shrouded wrecks with a weird and mystic halo. The 
shadows grew blacker, creeping onward almost im- 


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191 


perceptibly till all was lost in night. Dr. Carleton 
looked anxiously forward, regretful that he had not 
thought of this, and waited. The Arabs who had 
been so silently creeping on behind the mules now 
began to mutter a guttural chant. The romance died 
away. The mules with difficulty kept the path, 
stumbling over rocks and striking the ruins. 

The Arabs sang louder, sometimes shouting as 
they went, and discordant echoes came back from 
every direction. 

A night-bird screamed, and then a low whistle 
sounded far before them. 

. " It must be that shriek was some Oriental omen,” 
Dr. Carleton said to his sister ; for, upon hearing it, 
one of the Arabs gave a shrill cry, three times re- 
peated, and then all were absolutely still. Their 
chantinsr ceased, and not a sound broke the silence 
and the night. 

In the east a faint line of gray appeared, and grew 
rapidly broader. Morning is not slow to break when 
once the sun begins to rise over that plain of Bagdad. 

The messenger from the steamer was far in ad- 
vance. The other three were close together, silently 
moving on, when suddenly the muleteers turned 
upon the mules and stopped them. Then men rose 
up out of the earth about them ; and before Dr. 
Carleton could lift a hand to defend himself he was 
dragged from his mule, and lay bound upon his back. 

He struggled and fought desperately, but it was 
too late.^ Maime cried for help. Her voice sounded 
far away. ^ In the agony of the moment he tested 


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the iron muscles of his arms, and burst the withs. 
He struggled to his feet, when a heavy blow fell 
upon his head. A thousand meteors darted before 
his eyes, and then left him in utter night. 

He reeled, he gasped for breath, he fell senseless 
upon the ground. 


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193 


CHAPTER XXII. 

S LOWLY recovering consciousness, he thought it 
a fall from a tree, that had stunned him when a 
boy. Then it seemed the death-stupor following the 
wound upon the battle-field ; then the long, uncon- 
sciousness coming with the fever which followed ' 
it. The ropes that bound him proved a final re- 
minder. 

All was damp and dark about him, but it was a 
gray dark, — not the blackness of night. He spoke. 
His voice was husky and faint, and a hollow, muffled 
echo betrayed the existence of naked walls close 
about him. Slowly and patiently enduring the tor- 
tures which each movement caused him, he worked 
upon the ropes till he had unbound them. Then, to 
his surprise, he discovered that he had not been 
robbed. Some other motive had instigated the at- 
tack. It at least aroused a hope that Maime had 
been more gently dealt with. Tediously moving, he 
managed to creep across the floor. The cell was not 
large, but of solid stone. He sought in vain for a 
door, or for some crack through which the gray light 
entered. It was not light enough to see anything, 
but surely it was not dark. He lay down again, 
utterly exhausted. Tiien, to his horror, he discovered 
that his heart was scarcely perceptibly beating. 


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THE ONLY ONE. 


Sinking upon the cold floor, he laid his finger on 
his pulse and waited. What was he waiting for? 
He smiled, and gave the utmost attention. It was an 
interesting investigation, and with flutter and flu^ 
the pulsations increased and then fell off again. His 
mind was clear. He tested it with abstruse mathe- 
matical propositions. It was normal, and not even 
nervously active. Mentally he was as much a man ns 
ever in his life. He tested every sense, and found 
it ready with accurate response, excepting only the 
sense of taste and possibly of sight. He felt no 
hunger, and was sensible of no thirst. He seemed as 
one in the mental, standing over himself in the 
physical, to see himself die. He noted with interested 
accuracy every irregularity and peculiarity as the 
heart was surely sinking away with the body. In 
the ideal he was so difierent from himself in the real 
that he said aloud, fully believing he was speaking 
of a patient to anxious friends : "Yes, he is certainly 
failing. I see no cause for it. There is no disease. 
It may be poison. It may be — Yes. The heart 
seems to be wilfully ceasing its beating. Perhaps 
the machinery has run down. It does sometimes. 
His breathing is labored. The pressure is heavy 
upon his head. It begins to seem more like suflToca- 
tion. Is the air pure ? No 1 It is vile ! It is poison- 
ous ! Good God ! Avhy did that not appear before ? 
We might have saved him. He is smothering in the 
confined gases of this hole in the ground. For hours 
they have been stupefying him, — laying their relent- 
less grip upon the fountain-head of life. Why has 


THE ONLY ONE. 


195 


no one noticed that this room was rank with poison? 
Ah, yes, I see. It is hardly perceptible, but it is 
subtle and fatal. I know, I know why it is that you 
have not noticed it. I see how it is that tile poor 
fellow lies so low. He gasps for breath ! He will soon 
be unconscious ! He will linger in that state for an 
hour or two. Possibly, if you could bring him pure 
air, like water, in your hat, he would revive again, 
as the wounded soldiers used to. If you could only 
carry him into the fresh air, you could save his life. 
But when he sleeps, it will be too late to think of 
waking him. Even if you roused him, he would not 
get over this. ]^o. If he sleep before you find a 
way to rescue him, let him sleep on. What ! Do I 
hear a bell tolling? Let it toll ! ’T is tolling for the 
dead, an hour or two, only before the corpse is cold. 
No, it is not a bell; it is an organ playing. ’Tis 
playing a requiem. Let it play on. He will be 
ready for it before the music ceases. What ! Not 
an organ, but a voice, singing, singing his funeral 
hymn? No, no ; that is impossible ! Human hearts 
are not so hard as that. Tell them to wait. Tell 
them to wait less than half an hour. Hark ! Great 
heavens, I hear the voice! ’Tis singing something 
that I well remember, — something Kittie Cosgrove 
sang the first time I saw her. I crept along that 
shaded path. I saw the branches bowing, and the 
fern leaves nodding in the breeze ; and then I heard 
her singing. Yes, that is what she was singing. I 
was a boy then ; it was two hundred and forty years 
ago, but that is the same old song. It makes me 


196 


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feel young again. It has rung in my heart from 
that day to this. I’ll join in the chorus this time. I 
longed to then, and have ever since, and never dared. 
But I’m lawless now — I’m dead! Come, Kittie, 
come. I was foolish then and false ; but now, be- 
yond the grave, I know that you are all in all to me. 
Sing it again, and I will join. It shall be our mar- 
riage hymn, not for time, but for all eternity. I 
hear it ! — yes, yes. Listen ! There it comes ! Now I 
I ’ll howl it loud enough to send an echo back through 
all the years of silence. Just two strains more. A 
pause I Now for it I ” 

In a long, piercing shriek that shot through the 
solid walls. Dr. Carleton did what he supposed was 
joining in the chorus ; but he had discussed his own 
case with a painful accuracy of detail. The breath 
that had been almost spent before, died out in that 
one long note. No more. He could not go on with 
the chorus. He opened his eyes for a moment, and 
struggled to look about him. He had partially 
roused himself in the exertion. While he was thus 
waiting, a loud knocking sounded from somewhere. 
He shouted, ” Come in I ” and wondered who was 
there and where ” there ” was. 

"I am coming,” replied a voice; and suddenly, 
with a crash, a light streamed in upon him. He 
shrank back against the stone wall, trying to com- 
prehend whether he were ill or whether he were in 
trouble and help had reached him. 

” Where are you? ” asked a voice, so soft and gen- 
tle that for a moment he thought he must have passed 


THE ONLY ONE. 


197 


the bound, and be upon the threshold of another 
world. The words were in English, but there was a 
strange and melodious intonation from the South and 
the Orient combined ; not like a rude dial.ect, not 
broken and erroneous, but exquisite beyond descrip- 
tion. 

” Here,” he replied faintly, struggling to lift him- 
self from the floor ; and, guided by his voice, the 
questioner reached him, and laid a warm hand upon 
his head. 

"Come with me,” the voice said, "it is death to 
remain in here.” And, without a word, leaning 
heavily upon the proffered shoulder, Osgood Carle- 
ton very slowly crept toward the light, and at last 
was dragged through a narrow aperture ; then they 
passed down a long, winding gallery, and out into the 
sunlight that streamed over him with such terriflc 
brilliancy that through his closed eyelids it sent the 
most intense agony over his entire body. He realized 
that by urging and dragging him his guide forced 
him to reach the shadow of the walls under which he 
had been confined. Then he fell helpless upon his 
face and slept. 

When he awoke the light was not so painful. 
Evidently the sun hung near the horizon. His mind 
was clouded, but he was conscious and was much re- 
freshed. He had been given liquor to drink while 
he slept. His lips were even then wet with it. He 
remembered all, but indistinctly, and thought of the 
past and of Maime with almost indifference. He 
turned his head, and sought the one who had saved 


198 


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him. At a little distance he saw the figure of a man, 
and recognized it instantly. A slender, graceful 
youth, not over five-and-twenty years at most, 
dressed in a Turkish costume of such exquisite 
texture as indicated one of high rank and nobility. 
Black, curling hair burst profusely from under the 
red fez, above a peculiarly Oriental face, and the 
dark, almost Hindu skin was deepened by the rich 
flush that overspread the cheeks. The coal-black 
eyes were alive with fire, and flashed as the young 
man bent eagerly over his work. Upon a light easel 
before him lay a canvas, on which he was sketching 
in the brilliant colors of the bold and fascinatino^ 

O 

Persian art. The glowing sky, the cold, gray ruin, 
were the subject. Upon the canvas they stood out 
as in reality. Dr. Carleton would have fain let him 
paint on. It seemed cruel to break the charm which 
held those fiery eyes of the Orient. The very slight 
motion he had made, however, had warned the artist ; 
and in the same melodious voice, only more full and 
deep than it had sounded in the vault, he asked, — 

" Are you strengthened by your sleep ? ” 

What a charm of accent a tinge of the Orient adds 
to our rough Occidental languages ! Dr. Carleton 
would rather have listened longer than to have heard 
his own voice in reply ; so, making his answer as 
brief as possible, and rising, not without difliculty, 
he walked towards the easel. It was a wonderful 
picture. 

" You paint like a master,” Dr. Carleton observed, 
as the artist paid him no further attention. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


199 


" A very little master,” replied the artist, bending 
over the sketch. "The pictures bring me good 
prices in Europe. That is the best that one can 
praise them justly, and that is more because I stud- 
ied art there, and made many good friends there than 
because of any merit.” 

"Nevertheless, they have merit. What is this 
that you are painting?” the doctor added, looking at 
the tomb. 

The artist smiled. " You do not like it? No. I 
do not wonder. Yet it is really wonderful outside, 
and beautiful against the sky, if one knows nothing 
of the vault below. It is so with everything. Is it 
not ? But this in particular is the magnificent tomb 
of Zobeide, the favorite wife of the great Haroun El 
Easchid. It is of ^culiar interest to me just now ; 
for I am painting this for my sister, who was named 
for Zobeide.” 

" And her brother’s name is ? ” Dr. Carleton asked, 
sitting upon the ground. The stupor from the poison- 
ing had not yet fully worn away. 

" It is such a long name so very long — that I 
never yet saw the Eng^shman who could master the 
whole of it,” replied the artist, still working upon 
the glow that now deepened in the western sky. 
" But we in the Orient have an almost interminable 
list of names given us by admiring relatives, and then 
we are never expected to be called by any of them. 
Something or other always winds itself into our lives 
to give us a name before long. One of my names 
was given for the great sage, Ardavan ; and it came 


200 


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SO much easier than the rest to my English friends 
that they all called me Ardavan. I am no sage, I 
assure you ; but, in spite of the incongruity, I have at 
last become so used to it that I almost like to hear 
myself called Ardavan.” 

" It is very musical when compared with mine, 
which is Carleton, Osgood Carleton, and nothing 
more. I am an American. A short time before I 
left home, I received the degree of doctor of medi- 
cine, and am quite well aware that you have saved 
my life, though I have not yet thanked you.” 

"Never mind it now. You must go to my home, 
and eat salt with me. Then there will be no need 
of expressing gratitude between us. It was only an 
accident that I did it, at the best. I was singing 
one of our old songs of the Tigris, when I heard a 
cry that seemed to come from the ruin. My servants 
fled. These fellows are terrible cowards when they 
think there may be a spirit about. But for my part, 
though I fully believe in the presence of spirits, I 
have never yet met with one, and am rather anxious 
than otherwise to have the truth verified. So I went 
into the tomb without stopping to wonder what I 
should find there ; but fortunately it was not a spirit.” 

" You were singing a song of the Tigris, you said? 
Will you sing it again?” asked Dr. Carleton, ner- 
vously, as he now recalled the song he heard. 

Ardavan laughed, a clear, musical ripple, an Ori- 
ental laugh, and replied : "I’ll sing it to-night by my 
harp, if you wish ; but you look as sober as though 
you thought it a funeral dirge. It is very pretty, I 


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201 


assure you. I translated a verse into English some 
time ago, and was singing it in English when I heard 
you. Listen.” He sang : — 

“ How oft within you vacant shade 
Has evening met my rhapsody! 

How oft along those banks I ’ve strayed 
And watched the wave that wandered by. 

Oh, long thy loss shall I bewail! 

Farewell, farewell, my Tigris vale! 

''You look disappointed. Is it not pretty?” he 
asked. 

"It is, indeed,” said Dr. Carleton. "But in my 
stupor I thought it was a song I once heard in Amer- 
ica. Something I cannot easily forget. It brought 
me back to life again, the very thought that I heard 
it. But for that I should have lain there, and died 
without a struggle.” 

" I ’ll venture this picture that it was a lady who 
sang it,” said Ardavan, carelessly bending over the 
canvas to put a last touch somewhere. 

"Hardly a lady, only a little girl,” replied Dr. 
Carleton, seriously. 

" And still the American doctor loves her,” Ar- 
davan added, smiling as he laid the sketch in the 
case, so that the fresh paint should not be injured. 

" I loved her once,” Dr. Carleton replied, thought- 
fully. 

"I loved her once?” Ardavan slowly repeated, 
and his thin lips curved in that peculiar Oriental ex- 
pression of doubt and incomprehensibility. And 
there in the desert of Bagdad it was revealed to Os- 


202 


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good Carleton that in the past and to-day he had and 
did love Kittie Cosgrove. But, alas ! the inexorable 
tyranny demands more than that, before the one, the 
only one, shall be a joy forever in the home. Dr. 
Carleton would have been astounded had even Guy 
Underwood told him that ; but, in truth, he had 
more to learn. What had the others been to him ? 
He did not know. Some element in each had per- 
haps possessed her shadow. But which of them 
could have called him back to life again ? They had 
faded in time, while she had grown dearer in memory. 

" Yes,” he replied a little later, " I do love her.” 

"And always will? Just that, no more?” The 
artist was still smiling. 

^'How can I tell the future?” Dr. Carleton asked, 
doubtfully. 

Ardavan closed his sketching case with a resound- 
ing click, called his servants, assisted Dr. Carleton 
to enter his palanquin in spite of all protestations, 
and walked beside it, explaining the way as they 
approached and entered Bagdad. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


203 


CHAPTER XXIII. 



IHE young artist, being much the more familiar 


-i- with those tomb-brewed poisons, knew better 
than Dr. Carleton the great demand for absolute quiet 
and rest through the reaction ; and thus, in his quaint 
style and Oriental accent, which to his listener were 
thoroughly enchanting, he persistently prevented him 
from speaking, giving him only an occasional oppor- 
tunity for the briefest reply, and even prevented his 
thinking of anything but the ancient relics and occa- 
sional wonders around them. The stupor that yet 
hung about the rescued man aided the Persian 
artist materially in this endeavor, entirely con- 
cealing the energy with which he deftly turned the 
thoughts of his companion toward new subjects of 
interest and away from that which, though only like 
a dream, was yet nearest to his heart. 

Said Ardavan, as they started, ” We are now pass- 
ing through a vast cemetery. The burial-place in 
itself is very old, and these ruins that now and then 
rise higher than the graves and the tombstones, are 
of a city that is almost incalculably older yet. In 
the grandest days of Bagdad, this was her grandest 
quarter ; but, as her sceptre of living greatness fell 
gradually away, these monuments of the grandeur 
that was dead encroached. Now the mightier of the 


204 


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two has entirely uprooted all but the sand-clogged 
shadow of the other. The palace of Haroun El Ras- 
chid was the most magnificent of all palaces ; near it 
he erected the tomb of his favorite Zobeide. Now 
the palace is past and forgotten. Men wrangle and 
dispute even over its exact location. But the great 
octangular brick mausoleum, surmounted by its lofty 
superstructure in the form of couc, remains. It is 
an excellent prison, too, you will at least admit. A 
thousand years have tested both, and found the tomb 
the stronger to endure. Now we are approaching 
the old city that lies upon the west bank of the Ti- 
gris. It has dwindled away in size as the new city 
over the river there has superseded it, till now the 
new is three times the size of the old. Look yonder ! 
There is the only bridge connecting the two, resting on 
thirty great pontoons. They shiver and swing under 
the heavy bridge with a fearful motion when the 
Tigris rises with the rains. Some day, when the 
pressure is poured upon them with a little unusual 
vehemence, they will break from their moorings, and 
mount the flood as if it were a chariot to bear them 
away to the Persian Gulf. The city will not move 
until the bridge is gone ; then the people of Bagdad 
will cross in boats, if they must needs cross at all, 
until in the slow process of tedious time another pon- 
toon bridge will be completed to take its place. You 
cannot imagine how very slowly men without energy 
do a task that is allotted them. Bagdad is dead. 
The people stifle and suffocate in the foul air of in- 
anity, just as the American doctor yielded to the 


THE ONLY ONE. 


205 


robe of poisons that Zobeide’s sleeping Zenana 
secretly swaddled about him. We shall cross the 
bridge presently, for the freshest and fairest homes 
are over the river. But by far the finest streets 
are upon this side. The people of to-day seem 
to consider these vast, useless, and uninhabited plains 
too valuable to spread their homes and stretch 
their streets upon. They have huddled their houses 
together till two horsemen cannot pass in the narrow 
ways between them. They have built up into the 
air till the sun is lost long before it reaches the mis- 
erable, unpaved passages. When we have crossed 
the bridge you shall see for yourself, and I warn you 
you will shiver with disappointment and dread. 
There is no prospect or pleasure to be derived from 
an outlook upon the filthy streets, and therefore they 
have none. The doors are miserable, mean, and low, 
and there are no windows. The bare, unbroken 
walls, dingy and dusty, rise like the rocky ridges of 
the deep chasms of the Himalayas. But you must 
not allow the disappointment to depress the power of 
appreciation, for each of those houses is built about 
an immense court. The Europeans (and I fancy the 
Americans, too) make their homes beautiful for the 
stranger who is passing. The people of Bagdad 
adoim theirs for themselves alone. In the romances 
of Saladin you will not find a fancy to exceed the 
lovely facts of some of these fair courts. See ! We 
enter the old city. There are but three gates in this 
massive wall that surrounds its almost worthless con- 
tents. Two turn toward Hillah on the Euphrates, 


206 


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and one toward Kazimeen. Look at the circular 
towers upon the angles, and the smaller towers be- 
tween them ! They are architectural gems such as 
arc rarely produced to-day, even in Europe. Each of 
those towers is mounted with brass cannon. Think 
of it ! There is not value enough in the entire 
city to pay for the batteries that protect it. And yet 
the new city is surrounded just the same. There is 
only this difference : the oldest wall is in the finest 
state of preservation, and those parts that were built 
last may be discovered by the most evident signs of 
weakness and decay The work of the men who died 
two thousand years ago is more substantial to-day 
than the labor of hands that are not yet cold.” 

They were passing under the great Saracenic arch 
of the gate that faced Kazimeen, and Ardavan paused 
to look admiringly at the substantial architecture, yet 
retaining much of its pristine beauty as well as its 
pristine strength. Dr. Carleton’s eyes followed those 
of the artist. Then, taking advantage of the pause, 
he was about to speak ; indeed, he had begun to ask 
a question relative to his present position and neces- 
sities, when Ardavan continued, — 

"Yes, now we are in Bagdad ! Many and many a 
person comes to Bagdad seeking rest. Its very name 
sig^iifies that it is a home for the weary ; but many 
and many a desperate one only finds himself disap- 
pointed. It always makes me gloomy to enter Bag- 
dad. I love to get beyond its walls. I go out early 
and come back late. I am an artist of necessity. It 
is the only occupation that could employ my time, 


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207 


and keep me beyond these terrible streets. They 
are much wider here in the old city than over there 
in the new, and the shops are in the lower stories of 
the houses instead of being crowded into the open 
squares. Yet, dread it as I do, I cling to Bagdad as 
to a straw floating in the river. I hate the world 
more than I hate this gloom. And yet I find that 
Bagdad is not entirely out of the world. The great 
fish of the sea find the free ocean too confined for them, 
and futfle the little rivers with their finny flutterings. 
I sometimes go out of the new city, but the ways 
are not so wild and the ruins not so real as those 
through which we have been passing. Though the 
wall of the new city is five miles in length, the attrac- 
tions are so few and the caravan routes so unimpor- 
tant that that too has but three gates. They are more 
magnificent in pretensions than these, but more pov- 
erty-stricken in appearance. There Avas once a fourth 
gate in the new wall ; but, when the Sultan Amu- 
rath took the city in 1638, he signalled his victory by 
closing the great gate through which he had entered. 
And in all these years that have folloAved there has 
not been found in Bagdad the energy to open it. It 
is the most wonderful Saracenic arch I ever saw ; 
and, long ago, when it was the grand highway to 
Damascus, it was called the ' White Gate ’ ; for, as one 
came over the desert, in the reflection of the sun and 
the sand it shone as though coated with the hoar-frost 
of the North. But now ’t is called 'Bab-el-Tilism,’ 
from a scroll that the conqueror had carved upon its 
surface to warn approachers from the Damascus 


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draws that a new era and a new regimen regulated 
the customs of Bagdad. They call it the ' Talismanic 
Gate/ and tremble each time that they speak the 
name.” 

They were crossing the pontoon bridge, and again 
the voice of the speaker was silenced by the glory of 
the scene. Beneath them the turbid water surged, and 
the bridge swayed with its motion. Banks of clouds 
lay in the west. The horizon beneath them was a 
brilliant red. Desert and cloud seemed drifting to- 
gether, and into both the fierce sun was sinking. 
The river caught th,e crimson coloring, and its ripples 
seemed tinged with blood. The old city behind 
them was blotted out by the brilliant glare, and the 
new city before them was transformed till it trembled 
with the touch of fire, and seemed something celestial 
in the mystery of that magnificent sunset. 

"Look ! ” said Ardavan, pointing in rapture to the 
strangely translated mass. " See how the red and 
yellow brick, in their peculiar tints, take in the set- 
ting sun I Ah, how the picture haunts me day and 
night ! Perchance I may yet be inspired to paint it. 
Many and many a time have I seen it, yet each new 
time it seems as though I had never looked at such 
magnificence before. But come, we must hurry on 1 
For if darkness overtake us in that labyrinth of mis- 
erable and twisting streets, we shall lose our way a 
dozen times before even these catlike servants of 
mine can find the low door that will welcome us to 
my little home. How the narrow and high domes of 
the Mohammedan mosques glow in that reflected 


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209 


glory ! I would I were Mussulman, true as a Moslem 
should be, to mind the muzzein’s call from yonder 
minarets. Listen ! How it reverberates as it ring^s 
from the throats of the time-trained criers, 'La ilia 
il ullaMahamoud rusol il ulla ! ’ Millions upon millions 
of true souls are falling prostrate now to the good 
God and his Prophet. But I am no Mohammedan. 
The great philosopher Ardavan was a worshipper of 
the sun ; and when I found that in faithless ignorance 
I was falling on my face toward Mecca, I prostrated 
myself instead to the great God of Day. But he 
shone too fiercely at noon, and he left me alone at 
night. I could not worship him. But take your 
]a^t look from the bridge. We shall soon be in the 
dim twilight beyond. See the little steamer yonder 
turning from the wharf. There are only three 
steamers upon the Tigris now. The Turks put on a 
line a few years ago, but they had not the energy 
required to succeed against an English opposition. 
There, up the river, is the famous Serau. It is 
a most ungainly mass, yet it is the palace of the pasha. 
Oh, heavens ! How the Caliphs would have groaned 
to have been placed in such a horrible retreat and 
told that it was home. But there is not in all Bag- 
dad a relic left of the magnificence that belonged 
to the Caliphs. These curiously tinted brick, of 
which the city before us is built (look ! before the sun 
goes dowi^, you can see how their edges are rounded 
and worn away), were once a part of that glory. 
The people who built this new Bagdad were already 
too dead to turn a hand to help themselves, but must 


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steal their material for these horribly angular houses 
from the glorious relics of the past, though to do so 
they carried away the last atom of beauty, to re- 
mould it into these unartistic angles. And now, be- 
cause even the evidences of the first of their own 
creed are gone, these mangling Mohammedans glory 
in Bagdad as a creation of the followers of the 
Prophet, and say exultantly, ' Look, what a city the 
Faithful have founded ! ’ But, mark you, American 
doctor, here is a discovery that I have made. Upon 
yonder bank, under the low-water mark of the all- 
hiding river, there is a buttress more substantial 
even than the tombs in the ancient cemetery. , The 
wall is of bricks that are larger than any to be found 
in the city, cemented together till they are more solid 
and stronger than iron ; and every brick bears the 
name and the titles of Nebuchadnezzar ; finding this 
I sought the old Assyrian geographical catalogues of 
the days of Sardanapalus, and there, as I almost ex- 
pected, discovered the ancient name 'Bagdad’ among 
the Babylonian cities. And now look back across 
the river. The sun is so low that you can see the 
buildings again. The most important of them all, 
there under the purple cloud that seems almost to 
rest upon it, is the famed shrine of the Baktash der- 
vishes, bearing an elaborate Cufic inscription, dated 
944, according to your Christian way of telling the 
years. And now we snail dive into the city’s gloom. 
I must walk behind the palanquin, for there is not 
room for us to move side by side. But you will miss 
nothing. There is absolutely nothing to be seen.” 


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211 


Suiting his action to his words, the dark-skinned 
artist fell behind. But being out of sight was not 
for him to be out of mind. In their long and slow 
progress together, Osgood Carleton had hardly 
found an opportunity to speak a word, much less 
more than one word at a time. He could not but 
realize that it was an evident design of Ardavan’s 
that he should not speak. He had exhausted every 
means to render it impossible. He had not even 
asked him how he came to be in the tomb. He had 
not allowed him to render any explanation. He 
had so successfully endeavored to avoid the subject as 
to cause the'^ sufferer even to forget at times that he was 
not a guest of the artist, and in the interest of a long 
friendship being shown the wonders of the city. He 
had noticed that the voice of his guide trembled now 
and then, and how strong the temptation had seemed 
to be to moralize and wander from the scenes before 
him ; as though, after all, his heart were not with 
them. It had been an exertion for him to continue 
the conversation as he had. Why had he done it? 
Then suddenly recalling the painful reality which 
placed him there, upon the impulse of the moment 
he leaned from his palanquin^to ask some question of 
Ardavan that should give him hope of finding his 
sister. The streets were already dark, but there 
was still light enough for him to discern beyond a 
doubt that he was alone. Ardavan was not behind 
him. He spoke sharply to the men who carried the 
palanquin. They did hot even notice him at first, 
and when he attempted to alight they only looked 


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surprised, and spoke in a tongue that had no mean- 
ing to him. Seeing the uselessness of endeavoring 
to extricate himself in such a labyrinth as had been 
described to him, he sank back again into the palan- 
quin to let them carry him where they would, uncer- 
tain whether it were really another mesh of mystery, 
or whether Ardavan might not after all have simply 
stopped for a moment and would soon again overtake 
him. The servants moved on, and the streets became 
darker. 

Suddenly the motion of the palanquin was stopped. 
The men who carried it relieved themselves of their 
burden, and laid it upon the ground. Dr. Carleton 
alighted. The place was pitchy dark. A faint 
light shone in a low doorway. A weird-looking 
Persian was holding it. The Persian motioned 
him to enter. He refused. Yet why should he? 
Had not Ardavan told him that all the doorways 
were very low and mean? Might it not, after 
all, be the one he had assured him would make him 
tremble, but lead him in the end to his little home? 
It was an awkward thing to stand thus refusiiiir the 
common hospitality of a man Avho had saved his life, 
and brought him beneath his own roof. 

Upon second thought, and especially urged by the 
conviction that he could not be worse off than he 
was, and very faint and hungry withal, he followed 
the ugly specimen of humanity holding the little 
lamp, and crept up a narrow flight of stairs. Trem- 
bling and shuddering, he went down a long corridor. 
There was not sufficient light for him to discover even 


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213 


the composition of the walls so close upon either 
side. Nothing was visible but the ghostly outline of 
the hag who led the way. Her shadow covered him. 
It seemed like a cold sheet thrown around him ; and 
yet to her he had trirsted everything, and he had no 
mind now to beat retreat. 

The gallery came to an end at length, and a door was 
opened. The tottering woman stood one side, and 
motioned him to enter. The room was somewhat 
lighter than the hall, and apparently as vacant. He 
entered. The woman closed the door behind him, 
and went away. He shuddered when left alone, and 
suddenly realized that, ugly as she was, the old hag 
was after all desirable company. His first instinct 
was to turn again and follow her, and grasp the gaunt 
and bony hand that haunted him as he still saw it 
beckoning to him at the door below. He would now 
have clung to it. But he had not waited long in un- 
certainty when he was startled by a soft step upon 
the floor, and the rustle of drapery. An instant 
more, and two arms were thrown eagerly about his 
neck, and, sobbing and laughing, Maime whispered, 
'* O Osgood, n;y Osgood ! He promised to bring 
you — ” 


214 


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CHAPTEE XXIY. 


OT another word had been spoken when the 



withered hag appeared again, and handed a 
dainty little note to Dr. Carleton. The handwriting 
was exquisite, yet unlike that of an American. Like 
the tongue of Ardavan, it was tinged with the languor 
and luxury of the East. Dr. Carleton knew from 
whom it came before he had read the ^simple signa- 


ture. 


To THE American Doctor, — I am risking much 
in this, and you are risking even more. For your 
own sake and your sister’s and mine, you must trust 
and obey me implicitly, or the hope I have that all 
will be well will prove false. You have seen her. 
You know that she is safe. Let that be sufficient. 
I cannot explain to you the danger now. I myself 
imperfectly understand it. But follow the bearer, 
and leave your sister without a moment’s delay. 
Let me charge you both emphatically not under 
any circumstances, not to a living soul, not even to 
me if you are all alone with me, or to the lady’s maid, 
admit or intimate that this meeting has taken place, 
or that the American doctor is still alive. 

Your friend, as I trust you will by and by dis- 
cover, , Ardavan. 


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215 


"I think I understand it already,” said Maime, 
and her voice trembled. "'Go, Osgood! We can 
trust implicitly. We shall meet again.” 

One short embrace, and they parted. Dr. Carle- 
ton followed the weird guide, who walked much 
faster now, and soon had ushered him into a quaintly 
gorgeous room, that could be no other than the 
dark-skinned artist’s studio. Four bronze lamps of 
antique mould were swinging in slow and irregular 
rotation from long bronze chains, suspended by curi- 
ous bronze dragons clinging to the ceiling, and kept 
in perpetual motion by a gentle breeze that swept 
the heavy curtains from four long windows, just far 
enough to make a passage for itself. The flames in the 
vases of oil flickered and smoked when they swmng 
against the breeze to gain another impetus. But 
there was no odor from the smoking lamps. A gold 
bronze censer standing in the distant corner, in 
which a low fire was smouldering, filled the room 
with the most exquisite of Oriental perfumes ; and 
the breeze, as it came through the court without, 
was burdened by the flowering tamarind and pome- 
granate and the luxurious tropical garden that flour- 
ished under their branches. The ceilings were deco- 
rated in the popular Persian style, with the heavy, 
open, checkered work, so subtly effective. There 
were strange relics of the lost, almost forgotten ages, 
all about the room, — talismans in richly decorated 
and curiously lettered bands of cloth affixed to the 
furniture and drapery, like the phylacteries of the 
Jews. There were amulets such as are worn about 
the limbs as protection against diseases, set with 


216 


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precious stones, and engraved like the images of the 
divinities and genii, Tvith inscriptions upon them. 
There were tiny statuettes in biscuit pottery ; images 
of Bel, with a tiara ornamented with many rows of 
buli’s horns ; Nergal, with a lion’s head ; Ne])o bear- 
ing a sceptre. A curious statuette of Assyrian work- 
manship attracted his attention. It was tht3 figure of 
a dreaded demon. Its head was a skeleton, only half 
decayed, with the eyes still glaring in their sunken 
sockets ; its body that of a dog, the feet of an 
eagle, the claws of a lion, the tail of a scorpion. 
The skeleton head was surmounted by hooked ram’s 
horns, and the body borne upon wide-spread wings. 
It stood facinof such an altar of elaborate inodellino: 
as any god but Him who sees the sparrow fall might 
be well pleased to recognize as a place of propitia- 
tion. It was just beneath the lamp that swung 
before the largest window of the room ; and, recall- 
ing the mimicry of Chaldean mysteries. Dr. Carleton 
recognized in the figure the hideous god of the 
Sherki the hot wind that scorches all the reo^ion of 
the Euphrates when the thermometer stands at 120° 
Fahrenheit. 

Upon an easel at the farther end of the room 
rested a large, unfinished canvas-, but the details 
were complete ; and in that strange fascination that 
binds the very soul before the mysterious and the 
great in art. Dr. Carleton crept nearer and nearer, 
unable to take his eyes from the canvas, as though 
bound by it in some magic spell. Before a low mound 
of grass and a modest and low monument there 


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217 


knelt an angel of transcendental beauty, and from a 
pearly shell she was pouring water, sparkling and 
pure, into the snow-white bowl of a lily. In silent 
rapture Dr. Carleton stood before the picture. An 
almost inaudible footfall on the yielding Persian rug 
attracted his excited attention, and, looking up, he 
beheld the graceful and talented Ardavan, dressed in 
a gorgeous evening costume, standing close beside 
him. One delicate and shapely hand rested lightly 
upon a diamond-studded dagger in his girdle, and 
the other was lifting to his proudly curving lips one 
of those passionately fragrant cigarettes which the 
Oriontals delight in slowly smoking. 

Ardavan laughed. It jarred cruelly on the tender 
enthusiasm and adoration that thrilled in the veins of 
his guest. He evidently realized it, but he only 
lauofhed aijain. He scorned emotion. Then with a 
sudden turn he threw a curtain over the painting, 
remarking indifferently, "It is not completed yet. 
Reserve your criticism, and look at this which is more 
nearly finished. I told you how faithless I was, but, 
instead of believing anything in particular, you can 
see that I believe a little of everything. Here is a 
sort of religious enthusiasm that was instilled into 
these poor veins of mine by the study of Nebuchad- 
nezzarian theology. See ! Izdubar and his friend 
Heabani are fi^htin^ with the bull that was created 
by Anu at the command of Ishtar, his mistress, to 
avenge herself upon Erech. I am not sure that it 
was not the theology of humanity instead of Nebu- 
chadnezzar that inspired me, after all. Did you never 


218 


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know men giving themselves to that terrible mistress, 
Avarice, and creating tortures almost unimaginable, 
grim gods to work mischief against their fellows, 
simply because they were possessed of something that 
offended the covetous ? ” 

"I have indeed,” said Osgood Carleton, as the im- 
age of Sir Edgar Stanley rose with startling vivid- 
ness before him. " I know — ” 

Scarcely seeming to interrupt him, and yet evi- 
dently because he would hear no more, Ardavan 
spoke again, with a melodious, rippling,^and yet al- 
most inaudible laugh : Yes, yes. Every one knows 
of such cases, I fancy. All over the world, deny it 
who may, people believe in the mysterious, evil eye, 
and the power of its possessor, who, by some sort of 
right or rhythm, constrains even the gods and Fate to 
do his service. Your own King Solomon believed it 
when he moaned that all the workers of iniquity 
flourished. From the Temple of Belus to the moun- 
tains of Moab, from the steppes of Tartary to the 
forests of Gaul, from the pole to the tropic, and the 
tropic to the antipodal ice, diabolical lore is not with- 
out its ardent devotee, whose success astonishes con- 
viction. It is sustained in honor and dignity by the 
pettiest of the people, and is the policy of the princes. 
It numbers our priests and our prophets, and lurks 
in our cottages and our courts. It directs in war and 
it rules in peace. It establishes monarchies and de- 
thrones dynasties. But nowhere is its sting so bitter 
as when its fangs are buried in our homes.” 

Dr. Carleton shuddered, as he thought how fear- 


THE ONLY ONE. 


219 


fully this fact had been verified for him. Ardavan’s 
dark eyes noted it, but carelessly he continued : 
"Yes, you think so, and I agree with you. But you 
will laugh at the way I take to avoid the presence of 
evil here. See those little vases under each window. 
They were upon the holy Acadian altars once. The 
great philosopher whose name was given to me was a 
worshipper of the sun. The Acadians carried that 
worship to its greatest perfection, according to his 
acceptance ; and, borrowing from him the mode of 
protection and from them the means, I keep sweet- 
scented food in those sacred vases for the gods that 
love me to absorb in the warmth of the sun’s rays. 
And if the gods that love me are near and happy in 
my home, I have a sort of confidence that evil spirits, 
whether such as take possession of my heart or hand, 
to do me wrong or tempt me to injure my neighbor, 
will fly away.” 

"Be it heathen or Christian, that is a lovely 
thought,” said Dr. Carleton. " I wish that — ” 

"Look at all these ugly gods and hideous idols 
that fill the room. One would think that a sensitiv^e 
soul would be frozen to death in such an atmosphere ; 
and yet I love them, even while I often mourn that my 
soul is so sensitive that it will never cease smarting,” 
said Ardavan with such gentle audacity that Dr. 
Carleton scarcely realized that he had left anything 
unsaid. "Do you remember the force of the Mars 
and Hercules, borrowed from the Greeks by the 
dwellers upon the Tigris and Euphrates ? They are 
the same as the Assyrian Adar and Nergal, and the 


220 


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Acadian Nindar and Nirgal . I have a very costly seal , 
brought from the ruins of Babylon, with the image 
of one god upon one side and the other on the other. 
I never write a letter without protecting it with the 
mark of one of those potent powers. But come ! I 
have been testing your good-nature terribly. Our 
table must be spread with food. Let us first eat salt 
together, and then what you would call our — 
supper, I suppose. Am I not right in the name ? 
AYe cannot call it tea, as the English do, for it is 
always coffee here in Bagdad. 

While he was talking, Ardavan had touched a bell ; 
and, opposite the window, there rose slowly out of the 
floor, as if by its own volition, a table spread with a 
feast that was intended to meet the utmost require- 
ments of hunger and fastidiousness. 

Dr. Carleton was growing desperate. If his forced 
silence lasted much longer, he felt it would drive him 
mad. Ardavan motioned him behind a richly deco- 
rated screen, where, in all Oriental magnificence, was 
arranged every preparation for the most elaborate 
toilet. He was longer than necessary in the little 
that he was able to do to make himself ready for that 
sumptuous feast ; for he was vainly endeavoring to 
form some fashion of approach to the subjects that 
had gathered with every new development, and that 
seemed to demand some nearer acquaintance and 
some plainer acknowledgment to this incomprehen- 
sible man. But he came from behind the screen 
as undecided and as desperate as when he disap- 
peared. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


221 


Before they sat down Ardavan sprinkled salt upon a 
piece of bread, and, breaking it, handed the half to his 
guest. Then he poured out two tiny glasses of spark- 
ling blood-red wine. They ate the bread together, 
and, as Dr. Carleton raised the glass to his lips, he 
said earnestly, " God bless you, Ardavan ! I shall 
strive in some way to return this kindness.” 

”Keturn it by dealing justly with the weak,” said 
Ardavan, solemnly, raising his glass. 

"But for this great — ” the doctor began. 

"Be seated,” said Ardavan, motioning him to a 
chair by the table, — an English chair, — while he 
threw himself upon a c^shioned divan, opposite, that 
was much more in accordance with the grace and 
languor and artistic beauty of every motion and even 
every fold of his magnificent costume. 

"Look!” he said, pointing a jewelled finger to- 
ward a horrible bronze gi*oup that graced the centre 
of the table. "The forefathers of that land which 
you call Christendom — as though you thought it the 
only Christ-dom in the world — used to have, at 
their feasts, a skeleton, we are told, to be unveiled 
occasionally to frighten them with the thought that 
they were mortal. Their nearest neighbors were 
wont to hang a sword by a silken cord above their 
heads, in imitation of their old philosopher and leader, 
to startle themselves continually with the thought 
that they must die. I am no philosopher, though 
I am Ardavan ; but I have often thought that, if I 
lived as a man should live, I was best fitted to die as 
a man should die. I >vould rather be reminded that 


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I must live well than to be constantly thinking that I 
must die well ; but you see I borrowed the idea from 
them, after all, and I believe in those ancestors of 
Christendom, and in Christ and in the Christian God 
just as I believe in Allah and Mohammed and Gau- 
tama and Brahma. The Great Being above us has 
made Himself, as did his priest in Syria, all things to 
all men. His only-begotten and incarnate Eule of 
Eight came to the Arab, the Hindu, and the Syrian, 
the same and only-begotten, but translated into dif- 
ferent languages, such as different people were best 
prepared to understand. This curious group I found 
in the land where the great men teach the people that 
they must all go down into Ker-neter, and there be 
judged by Osiris and his forty-two deputies. These 
here are the dual Horus and Anudis, holding the 
fatal scales, and Thor at their feet to register the 
weighing. That object in the tray next you is sup- 
posed to be the heart of the dead, or, according to 
your Christian creed, his soul, while in the other 
tray are his good deeds. The theory is, you see, 
that if the good deeds be less in weight than the soul, 
they rise in the balance, and the soul sinks to the 
eternal tortures ofSmu. But if they be heavy, they 
will lift it forever out of the reach of the tormentor.” 

Thus the artist Ardavan prevented his friend from 
uttering more than single exclamations till the evening 
meal was finished. As they rose from the table he 
carelessly remarked, "I am expecting a call to-mor- 
row, from an Englishman of wealth, who is coming 
to inspect my pictures. Perhaps he will purchase 


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223 


some of them. He is a nobleman, Sir Edgar Stanley. 
You shall meet him, and tell me what you think of 
him.” 

Dr. Carleton staggered. He grasped the table to 
support himself, and blankly looked at Ardavan. 

'' Ah ! ” said the artist smiling, ” you have met him 
before. You know him? Y"es. And you think of 
him precisely as I do already. But his gold is as 
good as any. The Christians would say so ; and 
therein I agree with them, and not with either Hindu 
or Mohammedan, who will not even touch polluted 
wealth. In case he may wish to purchase my pic- 
tures, I shall gladly sell them to him. But you ? You 
have nothing to gain in his gold, and you would pre- 
fer not to meet him again, I see. And you shall 
not. You are enemies? Yes. And Bagdad is a 
bad place for enemies, for might makes right in these 
ugly and unartistic streets. You might kill Sir Edgar 
if you were to meet him, and then who would have 
his gold? Surely not I for my pictures. No. I 
had better assist you to avoid him. He has very 
sharp eyes. He goes about Bagdad as though he 
saw everything. He has been here but two weeks, 
but I verily believe he know^s more about Bagdad 
than does Ardavan. My servants will tell him that 
you have been here. These terrible servants tell 
everything to any one who will talk with them, and 
this nobleman is a great traveller and a great talker. 
He was born in Bombay, and talks with my servants 
in their own South Persian dialect, while they have 
to talk with me in mine of North Persia. He gives 


224 


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them gold. They worship him. Half the time I only 
guess what he is saying. He is a great scamp ; there 
is no doubt about it. But his money, that is pure 
gold ! No, no ! you must not kill him till I have 
sold him my pictures. But what am I thinking 
about? Were you going through Bagdad on your 
way westward? Are you in haste? Of course 
you are ! I shall be helping you, saving Sir Edgar’s 
life, and serving myself, to assist you on your way. 
You will not think rudely of me and of Oriental hos- 
pitality, because you know the cause ; and, if ever you 
come this way again, why, come and stop with Arda- 
van. Stay as long as you will. You will always be 
welcome, and are welcome to stay now, if you will 
promise me not to kill Sir Edgar Stanley till after he 
has paid me for my pictures. You would rather go? 
Yes. Then you shall. By very good chance 1 came 
from Damascus only a few days ago, and my little 
caravan is not yet dismissed. You shall take it, and 
be on your way at once. You shall go with it as far 
as you please. Take it with you to Europe, if you 
like. It has already been there once with me ; and, 
when you have done with it, just turn it about as you 
would your dog, and say, 'Go home ! ’ The leader is 
a very trusty servant of mine. He would come back 
to me from the North Pole, though he were frozen to 
a block of ice there.” 

"But my sister?” gasped Dr. Carleton, grasping 
Ardavan by the arm in a desperate endeavor to stop 
the eternal chatter of that Oriental tonjrue. 

" Ah, yes ! ” said Ardavan with an indifferent sigh. 


THE OXLY ONE. 


225 


" So you have a sister ? I had almost forgotten it. I 
have a sister, too, but never in this world am I able 
to forget that for a moment. Yerily, I sometimes 
think her almost a nuisance. She is in Europe now 
studying, I suppose, though what I cannot imagine, 
for she knows more now than the sages. She knows 
everything but how to keep men from falling in love 
with her ; and I have had to make a journey all the 
way to Europe to rid her of some pestilential monster, 
who thought he had discovered what it was to love, 
and was determined to force her to let him try the 
experiment at her expense, and see how long he could 
endure it. She has a beautiful face, and money 
enough to buy the whole of Bagdad with her income. 
She laughs at me because I keep on painting in this 
dull town, and will not stay in Europe and help her 
spend her gold. But she is a true woman ! She is 
pure as the angels before the good God in heaven.” 

For a moment the clear and passionless voice 
of Ardavan trembled. Taking advantage of the 
silence that could last but an instant, Osgood re- 
peated, — 

" But, sir, I should rather die in Bagdad than leave 
it without my sister. I will pay you ten times what 
all your pictures cost, if 1 kill Sir Edgar ; but I pre- 
fer to stay.” 

Ardavan smiled. His proudly curving lips were 
even prouder when he smiled. 

” I do not sell my pictures for more than they are 
worth,” said he. " If I did, Zobeide would buy them 
all, and keep me in Europe.” Then he added, more 


226 


THE ONLY ONE. 


sternly than he had spoken before : " I have told the 
American doctor once that his safety and mine de- 
pended on his silence upon a subject about which he 
seems determined to talk. Take the caravan I offer. 
While we have been talking they have been making 
it ready, and I hear it now in the court below. It 
has just entered. Instantly be on your way to Da- 
mascus, if you are wise. The leader is already in- 
structed, and will guide you well. You may trust 
him wdth your dearest treasure. Only remember and 
let the sand lie loose beneath your feet. Just beyond 
the city gate you will meet two men, upon the left- 
hand side. Say to them, * Welcome,’ and if one reply 
'Welcome to you,’ take him with you to Damascus. 
If not, then come back to the house of Ardavan. 
Fly, fly ! Answer me nothing. Forget that you 
have met me. A word from you may cost you every- 
thing.” 

The gentle and graceful Ardavan seemed suddenly 
to have become an inexplicable fury. Osgood Carle- 
ton trembled before him. He raised his hand in a 
desperate gesture to implore attention while he ut- 
tered words that must be spoken in spite of all dan- 
ger. But the dark-skinned artist smiled again, as 
though he had only been running into some odd 
ecstasy over one of his horrible idols. He pointed 
toward the door a slender Anger, upon which a dia- 
mond flashed. He said, in a voice that was almost 
as soft as a woman’s : " In the hall the servant is wait- 
ing who led you from the street. Follow her to the 
court. And now, farewell forever ! unless by chance 


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227 


we meet again somewhere in this trackless desert 
that men call the world.” 

Like one waking from a dream, Dr. Carleton found 
himself alone. How, where, and when Ardavanhad 
vanished, he could not tell. He was almost tempted 
to think it all a myth. Yet he certainly stood in the 
same wonderful studio. 

He stopped for a moment to wonder if Ardavan 
had really been there at all, and if he were not still 
waiting for him under some hallucination of the poi- 
son of Zobeide’s tomb, or the incense from the bronze 
gold censer. He opened the door. The hag stood 
there with the flickering lamp. He wondered if she 
had left the door since he had entered. He followed 
her to the court. Three horses and two laden mules 
were there. One horse was mounted by the leader. 
Another waited for him. The third was saddled, but 
held by the leader. He looked at it in astonishment. 
He mounted, wondering still what was coming, and 
what he was doing, and rode away, followed by the 
two mules guided by servants. 

Just beyond the gate, upon the left hand, there 
were two Turks, like beggars by the wayside. Lean- 
ing from his horse, Dr. Carleton, in a low tone, gave 
to the two the watchword Ardavan had given him. 
"Welcome to you,” replied one of the two. Dr. 
Carleton leaped from his horse, and scarce repressed 
a cry of mad delight as he lifted Maime into the va- 
cant saddle. The other turned back, and they rode 
away. 


228 


THE ONLY ONE. 


CHAPTEK XXY. 


LL night the brother and sister, with the guide, 



followed well the instructions of Ardavan, and 
the sand lay loose beneath their horses’ feet. The 
guide rode silently and swiftly before them. Their 
horses followed the leader without urging. The 
moon crept higher and higher, and its white light 
silvered the sand, then it sank slowly, lower and lower, 
and the shadows crept toward the eastern horizon, 
growing longer and longer till they disappeared ; and 
the stars in the peerless blue-black sky shone without 
tremor or twinkle through the clear, dry air. They 
had passed beyond the range of the ruins, and more 
than once rode through rude little villages, new 
when compared with the ruins, though old when the 
Italian explorer, in his Spanish ships, sighted the first 
clusters of the Caribbees. They were beyond the 
barrenness about Bagdad, too ; and hills and groves, 
not over many or over large, broke the monotony of 
the way, and sometimes startled the riders, who could 
not easily forget their experience of the morning 
previous. 

” I was right,” said Maime, ” and before we reached 
Bagdad we were met by Sir Edgar.” 

" Before ! ” exclaimed her brother ; ” you do not 
mean — ” 


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229 


'' Yes, indeed, I do mean,” she interrupted. I 
mean that the band of robbers that stopped us was 
hired and headed by my husband.” 

She spoke the words with a low, fierce eagerness, 
as though the torture and humiliation were a penance 
she was almost proudly paying. 

begin to understand it now,” said Osgood Carle- 
ton. ” He intended that I should die in that horrible 
tomb.” He ground his teeth. 

”He thought you were already dead,” said Maime ; 
” for it was when he said that to some one with him 
that I first heard and recognized his voice. I only 
saw his face for an instant, and it bore that same fear- 
ful smile. I do not believe he knew that I saw him, 
or heard his voice ; for he did not speak to me, and 
in a moment more he went away. I have not seen 
him since.” 

” But how did you come in the house of the artist 
Ardavan?” asked her brother, struggling to throw 
more light upon the mysterious events of the four- 
and-twenty hours ; that had been but four-and- 
twenty, after all, in spite of the ages that seemed to 
have elapsed. 

" I am as ignorant as you can be,” said Maime. " I 
was simply taken there with my maid, as carefully as 
though I had been made of wax. We were placed 
in a little room opening out of the one where you 
met me. Very soon that lovely man came in to see 
me. I waS' crying and distracted, thinking of you. 
He sat down and talked with me. O Osgood ! a 
man so gentle and so strong, and such a man as he, I 


230 


THE ONLY ONE. 


never thought to find among the best of Christians. 
Just think of it, in such a fearful country ! While he 
talked he made me forget to cry. He made me even 
forget about you, Osgood, — he did indeed, — and yet 
I remembered you all the time. I told him that I was 
ready to give myself up to my husband again if he 
would set you free. He said that if you were dead 
it would be useless to make such an offer ; and that if 
you were living, as he hoped you were, he would 
surely bring you to me, and set us free together if he 
could. I trusted him from the very first moment, 
for something in him told me that he could do it. In 
the joy of the moment I turned to tell Bertha, the 
maid. To my astonishment she was sitting just 
where she had placed herself as we entered, and 
sound asleep. I started to wake her, but he laid 
his hand upon my arm and said, * No. Let her sleep. 
The wine I gave her has made her heavy. People 
do no mischief while they sleep.’ I was almost 
angry with him, but of course I dared not show it 
then ; and before he left he called two servants to 
take her into another room, and lay her on a divan. 
Even then she only waked enough to walk. And 
poor girl ! The only horrible thing about the man is 
that he made me leave her there when I came away. 
She was still asleep, and he would not let me wake 
her, or tell me in which room she was sleeping. I 
almost refused to go without her, but he said that 
Sir Edgar would provide for her, and that if she did 
not wish his provision he would surely send her 
safely after us.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


231 


As the day dawned, the travellers drew rein at a 
caravansary ; and glad enough they were to rest and 
refresh themselves ! The accommodations were so 
slight as to render the comforts bound upon the backs 
of the mules indispensable. Impatiently they awaited 
their arrival. They came at last, and with them came 
Bertha, the maid. She fell into her mistress’ arms, 
and bitterly reproached her for having deserted her. 
She said that she awoke and discovered herself 
alone ; that she found her way to the court just as 
the mules wxre passing out ; that she saw her mis- 
tress’ travelling-bag upon the back of one of them, 
and, knowing that they must lead her to her, she 
followed them all night long. Maime had gathered 
indefinite doubts about the maid, under the united 
influence of her brother and Ardavan ; but such an 
act as this was not calculated to encourage them, and 
even Dr. Carleton admitted the necessity of protect- 
ing her, now that she had thrown herself into their 
hands again. 

Rapidly they moved along their journey, and in 
due time were approaching Damascus. In the exu- 
berance of those fertile valleys they shunned the 
crowded caravansaries, and tented by themselves. 

One night, in the silent, spirits’ hour, — one would 
have known that it was midnight without consulting 
either moon or watch, — Maime and the maid lay 
sleeping in the tent, pitched upon a low hillside, just 
off the trail. The animals were tethered beyond, the 
servants were sleeping on the ground beside them. 
Dr. Carleton sat alone by the dying fire. It was not 


232 


THE ONLY ONE. 


such a fire as he had known in army life, yet it re- 
called those hours to him. It was almost dead. He 
had dreamed the last dream that the embers would 
inspire, and was growing drowsy. He would wait 
but a moment more, while the fire lasted in the nar- 
gileh which he was smoking. But at last the twist- 
ing stem lay idly in his fingers. The fire was out, 
but he was rapt in the wondrous fascination of the 
scene that floated before him. 

The trail led through a gorge between two hills. 
The cloudless sky above was studded brilliantly with 
stars, the black walls of the ravine were glossed with 
gathered dew, the silence was softened by the sighing 
of the breeze among the rattling olive leaves. The 
loneliness was broken, now and then, by the faint 
shadow of an Arab band ; trailing trains of camels in 
the endless caravans that carry the commodities of life 
and the conveniences of death to and from Damascus, 
— shimmering shadows in that strange land of sil- 
houettes ! 

Then all was still. The breeze died away. There 
was not a sign of life, till, in the distance, a shadow 
larger than anything he had seen before attracted Dr. 
Carleton’s closer attention. His eye followed it as it 
swung along the trail with that inevitable and grace- 
fully ungainly motion of the ship of the great sand- 
sea. It was a huge and solitary camel. When half- 
way through the gorge, it turned suddenly to the left, 
and approached the smouldering fire. It loomed up 
out of the darkness, and saluted with an agonized 
gurgle, coming mournfully through that long, writhr 


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233 


ing neck. As Dr. Carleton rose doubtfully to his 
feet, the camel sank upon his knees in response to 
the silent command of his rider, — a slender figure clad 
in the richest habiliments of the East. The moon- 
light and the fire-light disclosed no more ; but the 
diamonds flashed upon the hand that waved the Ori- 
ental salaam, and the low voice and the faultless Eng- 
lish betrayed the presence of the Persian, Ardavan. 

Dr. Carleton would have greeted him with an ex- 
clamation of delight ; but the jewelled hand remained 
raised, and became a command to silence which he 
could not misunderstand. 

"There has been a murder,” said Ardavan, "com- 
mitted by a band of robbers, ten miles back upon the 
trail. They will pass here in an hour. If your camp 
remain where it is, they will sight it, and the worst 
will be your own.” Then leaning upon his camel’s 
neck, he added, in a still lower tone : " There is a 
scorpion in yonder tent ; guard yopr tongue ! I am 
unknown to you.” 

He gouged the haunches of the camel with the long 
iron-tipped rod, and with a fearful wail the huge ani- 
mal plunged again into the solitude of the night, and 
was lost beyond the ravine with his mysterious 
master. 

Dr Carleton hurriedly aroused the sleepers, moved 
the tent over the hill, extinguished the fire, and, when 
all was again at rest, he placed a servant upon guard, 
and went back to watch for the robber band. He 
secreted himself in the low branches of an olive- 
tree. 


234 


THE ONLY ONE. 


A small caravan went by on its way to Damascus. 
It carried no burdens of merchandise. It was, doubt- 
less, the retinue of Ardavan. Another crossed its 
track, bound for Bagdad. Then four horsemen rode 
at a slow canter from depth to depth through the 
dark ravine. They passed beneath the olive-tree. 
There were three Arabs and one European. The 
face of the latter was ghastly white in the moonlight. 
The hands that held the reins were slender and deli- 
cate for a robber. The figure sat gracefully upon 
the horse, and the dark eyes scanned searchingly 
every shadow of the ravine. 

Dr. Carleton shuddered. Involuntarily his hand 
rested upon the pistol in his belt. Justifiable mur- 
der? What was there to justify it? With his hand 
still resting on the metal but, he watched the riders 
as their forms grew fainter and fainter till the dim 
shadows disappeared. Then he went back to the 
tent and reported that the robber band had passed, 
and that they were safe for the night. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


235 


CHAPTEE XXYI. 
DAMASCUS, opal of the Orient ! Priceless 



V-/ pearl in thine emerald enfol dings ! By mid-day 
and midnight, at sunrise and sunset, when the God of 
Fire hangs above the blue or the Goddess of the Night 
sails her ceaseless circuit, when all the heavens are 
bright and blue, or the stars alone flash in the black 
firmament, ever and always, matchless Queen among 
the cities of the East ! Damascus ! 

For six days Osgood Carleton and his sister had 
rested in this paradise. Why ? They did not know. 
A message had warned them to stay. In the early 
mornings they had walked together through the gor- 
geous groves that girdle the city, listlessly listening 
to the incomparable melody of the numberless foun- 
tains. Through the day they remained in a quiet and 
secluded resort beyond the city, after the fashion of 
many travellers ; and by slow degrees they ventured 
at night into the streets of superb caf^s , where nature 
and art blend in the one ambition to make the most 
luxurious and attractive haunt of earth. Dr. Carle- 
ton dared not leave his sister alone for an hour ; but 
together they sipped the delicious black coffee and 
breathed the fragrant air that bore the incense of the 
thousand flowering shrubs, and listened to the pas- 


236 


THE ONLY ONE. 


sionate music that is the pride and pleasure of the 
princes of Damascus. 

As the time wore on, Osgood Carleton began to 
hope that his enemy might have gone farther than 
Damascus, or possibly have given up the seai’ch. He 
did not know Sir Edgar so well as he thought. He 
had changed materially himself, and even fancied that 
the disguise might be enough to cover him if they met 
by chance on the street at night. Hope is a very 
ready and worthy friend when a little distance veils 
the danger. But as earnestly as he hoped that they 
might not again meet Sir Edgar, he was equally eager 
in the desire to find, somewhere in the world, the in- 
explicable Ardavan. 

On the sixth evening of their sojourn in Damascus 
he met him face to face. There was only a half- 
dozen of the revellers in the Royal Cafe between them. 
Ardavan, gracefully and gorgeously dressed, with his 
dark fez and black hair and olive-brown skin and 
flashing black eyes ! Just as he would have pictured 
him ; just as he would have dreamed of him ; careless 
and free ; unmindful of anything and everything, yet 
at the same instant seeming to comprehend all that 
was passing, not only in public, but even in the hearts 
of those about him ; scorning the world, because he 
knew it too well ; shunning it, because it bored him ; 
dallying with it, poised upon the tip of his finger, be- 
cause he found in the act of seeing into all its secrets 
a momentary pleasure when others failed ! Ardavan, 
as fascinating as he was incomprehensible, was list- 
lessly strolling past the pleasure-seekers of the cafe. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


237 


intuitively repelled from joining them by the thought 
that they and their pleasure were beneath him, and 
that in their society there was nothing new, nothing 
attractive for him to unravel and illuminate. And 
yet, most incomprehensible of all the mysteries, he 
was leaning with an almost gracious air upon the arm 
of the English nobleman. 

Dr. Carleton had started to his feet to accost him 
when he noticed Sir Edgar, and sank back again into 
the shaded corner they had purposely selected to 
avoid attention. But Ardavan’s eyes searched every 
shadow. The fact that here was something hidden 
seemed reason enough to bid him investigate. The 
diamonds flashed upon the hand that waved the 
salaam, and the dark face nodded and the white teeth 
shone like pearls in the brilliant light as he smiled 
for the flash of an eye ; and then the head turned, and 
he was again addressing Sir Edgar, calling his atten- 
tion to something across the street. 

So soon as they dared, the brother and sister left 
the royal restaurant, and made their way toward the 
incomparable garden where they had pitched the tents 
that formed their home. They had not gone far 
when they were overtaken by one of the Arab waiters 
of the caf6, who silently handed Dr. Carleton a card, 
held out his hand for the inevitable backsheesh, and 
having received it as silently retired. The Arab 
servant rarely speaks, unless that flood of backsheesh 
flows too slowly from his master’s purse. 

The writing was faint upon the card ; but, stop- 
ping beneath one of the great swinging lamps that 


238 


THE ONLY ONE. 


make Damascus so weirdly beautiful at night, they 
read a hastily written line : — 

” You are dangerously bold. Your camp is pic- 
turesque and an object of interest. The road to 
Jerusalem is open.” 

There was no signature and no address. But every 
little letter on the card was a miniature image of 
Ardavan. 

When the next morning broke, it found the Ameri- 
cans well upon their way to the Holy City, in spite 
of a sudden illness which attacked Bertha, the maid, 
so soon as she heard that they were about to move. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


239 


CHAPTEE XXYIL 

T he Jordan ford they crossed at the point where 
once the Prophet and High Priest of Israel 
went down to be baptized of John, and the muddy 
river rushed on to the Dead Sea down below, with a 
strength and velocity that seemed capable of filling 
that low basin, till its waters should not only reach 
the level of the great oceans of the wide world, but 
even have a surplus flood to pour into them. But in 
thousands of years of rushing the river has not yet 
half filled the sea. The forest of weeping greenery 
was behind them. 

The winding way through the sand and the low 
sage grasses brought them to Jericho, — not the old 
Jericho, down by the spring, just at the foot of the 
rocky hills that four thousand years ago were so green 
and fair to see, but a little nearer the desert and the 
sea, on the road to the Jordan ; New Jericho ; crum- 
bling and old as the ruins by the spring. 

It was night when they reached New Jericho ; and, 
though Jerusalem was but a few miles away, they 
were obliged to wait there till morning in order to 
pass by daylight the ” Good Samaritan’s Inn,” 
among the hills ; in which rocky region to-day, as 
well as eighteen hundred years ago, many a man 
falls among thieves on his way from Jericho to 
Jerusalem. 


240 


THE ONLY ONE. 


It was a weird, wild valley about the old city ; and 
as the little caravan moved noiselessly toward the di- 
lapidated hedge-walls, the riders caught glimpses of 
many a low camp-fire, the sharp outlines of crouch- 
ing Arabs in the smoky light, and moving shadows of 
camel trains trailing away to the west and south. 

Morning again sent them on their way, and they 
passed the ragged rocks in safety ; passed the little 
town of Bethlehem, with its low, white walls and its 
square, flat I’oofs, and its narrow streets and dirty 
children, holding up pitifully lean and little hands, 
and thin, forlorn faces, with languid, listless eyes to 
beg for backsheesh. 

Over the last hill the horses cantered as though 
they appreciated the nearness of rest, and through 
the Gatie of Jerusalem, which stood open wide, they 
entered and found themselves at last upon the sacred 
soil of the Holy City of Christendom. But what 
had been gained by it ? That the future must deter- 
mine. For the present they most needed rest. 

"We will not stay long in Jerusalem,” said Os- 
good Carleton to his sister. "We will not wait for 
that man to find us out again and drive us on. This 
running like thieves before an officer is absolutely 
unbearable. We will place ourselves out of this 
God-forsaken land, where he evidently has much the 
best of us, as quickly as possible. We will find 
some civilization before long ; and there we will make 
a stand and' meet him face to face, if he dare present 
himself.” 

"You may well feel so, Osgood,” said Maime, 


THE ONLY ONE. 


241 


earnestly, ” and I feel it for you. I too am very 
weary of all to do with this cowardly wandering, 
except that it has given me the joy of your company. 
It has been a choice for me between you two, and in 
my selfishness I have thought only of myself. But 
you are right, Osgood. Whether it be duty or not 
toward him, it is my duty to you ; and so soon as we 
are out of this lawless land, anywhere where there is 
little humanity for appearance’ sake, I have deter- 
mined to yield the day. He has worked hard for me, 
and possibly he will prize me more than he did 
before.” 

” Never, Maime ! ” said Osgood, sternly. ”If it 
were to give you up to him, sooner I ’d walk with 
Cartaphilus, the cursed cobbler, from w’orld’s end to 
world’s end, and on through all eternity. But we 
will find some way to resist and overcome that man. 
He has not been guilty of so much villany and left 
no trace behind.” 

Maime only smiled. It was useless to argue, yet 
in that smile her brother saw and trembled at the 
sight, that she was determined beyond controver- 
sion to carry out her will. 

As day after day passed, though the subject wus 
strictly avoided by both. Dr. Carleton discovered 
that the resolution w^as already bitterly at work. It 
w^as like that last straw which could break a camel’s 
back ; and Maime was yielding slowly but surely 
to that disease which no medicine can touch. The 
courage and will that ha d supported her through so 
much had left her hopeless in the hands of Fate, 


242 


THE ONLY ONE. 


and, without so much as waiting to see what the re- 
sult might be, she was unwittingly sinking under the 
weight before it fell. The doctor’s utmost energy 
and skill, urged by every demand of a brother’s 
love, failed to stay the stern hand that held their des- 
tinies. 

The great Easter festival was at hand, — the great- 
est celebration held in the Church of the Holy Sep- 
ulchre ; a season when pilgrims swarm the Holy City 
and wedge their way to the Sacred Tomb upon pave- 
ments of flesh and blood. It is the time of the great- 
est excitement of the year ; and the different creeds 
that worship in the church, represented by thousands 
of their followers, hold, not a high carnival only, 
but high riot often, about the tomb of the only 
begotten Son of Love. 

Such a scene, shocking and sacrilegious though it 
be, would surely serve to awaken sentiments of some 
sort in the breast of any rational observer ; and, in the 
hope that it might turn the melancholy that had taken 
possession of his sister, Osgood Carleton said, "We 
will stay here, if you like, Maime, till after Easter 
day. Then we will see Europe and America once 
more.” 

She offered no comment. It mattered very little 
where the time was passed until the trial came, and 
thus they waited to witness the horrible human pas- 
sions of the holy Passion Week. But the week went 
by, and Osgood Carleton failed as utterly as before 
to find a sentiment either of interest or disgust. 
Upon the last great day they were, seated in the 


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243 


balcony overlooking the surging mob. Even the iron 
railing about the stone of unction was torn down by 
the rioters, and the sacred slab was desecrated by 
vile, sin-shodden souls. The low stone sepulchre 
was besieged by the hooting crowd, and more than 
one found a shorter way to the hereafter than on 
through the life he had been living, before that ter- 
rible day was done. 

The gallery alone was comparatively cl ear. Only 
those who had gained permission from the Moham- 
medan authorities owning the Church of the Holy 
Sepulchre were admitted there. Beside the specta- 
tors there was a guard of Mohammedan soldiers in 
the gallery, — an absolute necessity in the church, 
through Passion Week, — to keep the Christians from 
open and bloody rebellion among themselves. 

As Dr. Carleton watched the furious throng about 
the sepulchre, his eyes involuntarily turned from the 
exciting picture, and, as if drawn by some unseen 
force, they followed the line of the gallery and in- 
stinctively rested upon the figure of Ardavan, lean- 
ing gracefully over the rail, smoking the inevitable 
cigarette, watching the little wreaths as they wan- 
dered over the tumultuous pilgrims, laughing as the 
ashes fell among the wranglers ; the reckless Arda- 
van of Damascus, the mysterious Ardavan of the 
desert, the incomprehensible and talented Ardavan of 
Bagdad, the philosophical and generous Ardavan of 
the ancient burying-ground, and now the passion- 
less scoffer Ardavan, as he sat in the sul)dued light 
of the low window, where the gallery turns and dis- 


244 


THE ONLY ONE. 


appears, at the chapel by the entrance to the Latin 
Convent. 

Dr. Caiieton’s eyes had been riveted upon him but 
a moment when he turned his head, and looked directly 
in his face ; but this time, without a smile of recogni- 
tion, though he evidently knew him, and without a 
motion among the diamonds that sparkled upon the 
slender hand. Slowly, very slowly, Ardavan turned 
his head still farther, and looked steadily before him. 
Instinctively Osgood Carleton followed the direction, 
even as though Ardavan had spoken. He started in 
terror as his gaze rested upon the motionless form of 
Sir Edgar Stanley, midway between himself and 
Ardavan, with his eyes fixed upon his sister. 

Grasping Maime’s hand, he whispered nervously, 
''Come, we must go from here.” 

"He is here,” said Maime, with a shudder. "I 
feel his eyes upon me. Where is he?” 

"Just behind you,” replied her brother. " Do not 
look that way. Come, we must go, and go quickly, 
before he can overtake us.” 

"I prefer to go alone?” said Maime, rising. She 
turned directly toward Sir Edgar. Her brother 
sprang forward to detain her ; but she was already 
out of reach, wending her way through the crowd, 
whose attention was entirely taken up with the scene 
below, and steadily approaching her husband. 

As he rose to follow her. Dr. Carleton cast one im- 
ploring glance toward Ardavan, as though he could 
aid him if he would. But the artist’s eyes were fixed 
upon Sir Edgar ; and, suddenly, just before his 


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245 


wife reached him, the English nobleman tottered, 
staggered, and almost fell to the floor. His eyelids 
drooped drowsily. There was no possible sign of ex- 
citement ; but turning slowly, and as though moving 
in his sleep, with his eyes apparently closed. Sir 
Edgar walked toward Ardavan. 

Maime paused irresolutely, and her brother over- 
took her. As he did so he looked his thanks to Ar- 
davan, feeling sure that in some way he must have 
done it ; but the artist’s eyes were still fixed in a 
fierce, mesmeric glare upon the approaching Eng- 
lishman. He rose, walked slowly backward, till he 
stood in the door of the Latin Convent. There he 
waited till Sir Edgar had reached him, and they dis- 
appeared together, followed closely by Maime and 
her brother. 

In the court beyond the outer door they found Ar- 
davan alone, carelessly smoking a cigarette. He 
smiled, bowed, and gently touched the hands they 
offered him, as though it were the first time he had 
recognized them. "A strange performance, inside,” 
said he ; " yet I suppose that you Christians are 
rather pleased, and would almost join it.” He 
laughed and offered Dr. Carleton a cigarette. 

" I am much more eager to meet Sir Edgar Stan- 
ley,” Maime said, abruptly. 

Possible?” The artist smiled. ”He did not 
seem so very anxious to gratify that desire, I 
thought, there in the church.” 

"He is my husband,” said Maime. "It is my 
duty.” 


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” She must not meet him ! ” exclaimed the brother. 

" Why not?” asked Ardavan, carelessly. 

*'It is a long story,” replied the doctor ; " but be- 
lieve me, all the wonderful favors you have done for 
us in the past will be nothing to persuading my sister 
to abandon this meeting.” 

”My brother is generous,” said Maime, with a 
shrug of the shoulders, such as in the old days said 
so plainly, ” but I have a will of my own,” and 
added calmly, must and I will see him.” 

If he is really your husband, there can be little 
danger ; for you are both Christians,” said Ardavan, 
with a tinge of scorn. 

" It must not be ! It shall not be I ” exclaimed 
Dr. Carleton, looking almost fiercely at Ardavan. 

Ardavan smiled, blew a perfect little wreath of 
smoke into the air, and, as if trying to send his 
words through the wreath, replied, ''From the little 
that I know about women, I think the American 
doctor is wrong, and that his sister will see this man 
in spite of us. I should advise him to yield grace- 
fully, and come with his sister to my rooms, just 
across the square. Come in an hour. He will be 
there, and ready to receive you.” 

"I will come,” said Maime. 

"Impossible ! ” groaned Dr. Carleton. "Ardavan ! 
Don’t desert us now that we have most need of you.” 

" Desert you I ” repeated Ardavan, with a lit- 
tle laugh. "If I have yet deceived you with bad 
advice, count this with it and go your way ; if 
you have done well to follow me in the past, you will 


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247 


do better now. In just one hour that brown door 
with the iron bars across it will open to you, if you 
wish it. If not, then this must be my farewell ; for 
I go to Damascus to-morrow and on to Bagdad. 
What a beautiful sky hangs over this horrible fes- 
tival ! ” 

Apparently Ardavan had suddenly entered the 
church again, yet they were not at all sure that he had 
not disappeared in the opposite direction, or indeed 
simply vanished where he stood. They had only 
followed the direction of the jewelled finger as it 
pointed toward the sky, glanced for an instant, looked 
back, and Ardavan was gone, leaving no trace behind 
but a little white wreath of smoke curling in and out 
and all about upon itself. 

When the shock subsided. Dr. Carleton looked at 
his watch. ”Itis just three. At four we must be 
there, if you insist; but, if you follow my advice, 
you will be upon your way to Jaffa then.” 


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CHAPTEK XXYIIL 

T he hour was not a long one. Osgood Carleton 
knew better than to argue the question with his 
sister. He presented the case as they walked together 
down the Via Dolorosa, with its high walls on either 
side and its blank and bare blotch, where the Ecce 
Homo staircase stood, and its judgment hall with the 
hideous image of Christ in Agony standing almost in 
the doorway. 

As Dr. Carleton beheld it looking down at him, his 
thoughts involuntarily reverted to Ardavan’s collec- 
tion of horrible deities ; and he wondered if that 
strange man, who did not shudder before those repre- 
sentations, would also be able to derive a benefit from 
any thought which this crucifix, in its colossal and 
ghastly dimensions, could possibly inspire. 

Then he went on with the story he was telling 
Maime,'of the joys and comforts she might yet ap- 
preciate and confer if once more they went on to- 
gether and made America their first stopping-place ; 
of the fortune that waited for her to appear and claim, 
and of the good she might do with it, as well as of 
the terrible burial she was preparing for herself in 
the other alternative. 

She admitted his words without a murmur or a 
contradiction ; but when the bell in the low hospice 


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249 


tolled four, with her brother reluctantly following, 
she entered the low, brown doorway with the iron 
bars, and was ushered into a chamber above that 
might have been created expressly for Ardavan. 

They had to wait some time for the dark-faced 
artist. It seemed one of his own peculiarities to be 
always inditferently behindhand when there Avas noth- 
ing to be gained by haste, and always beforehand 
when there was anything to be tliAvarted by appear- 
ing unexpectedly. But he came at last, as graceful 
and as gorgeously Oriental as ever, smoking the 
fragrant Persian cigarette, and seeming to have utterly 
forgotten that there was anything of importance to 
be attended to. 

have come,” said Maime, advancing and extend- 
ing her hand, Avhich he held in both of his till she had 
finished speaking. "And though you have been very 
kind before, I thank you more for this than for any- 
thing else that you have done for me.” 

Dr. Carleton noticed that Ardavan hardly smiled 
as he replied, "We can tell better how much the 
thanks may mean after the day is done. So you 
have come to see Sir Edgar Stanley. I told him you 
were coming, and he is eager to meet you, after all. 
He assures me he has something of importance to say 
to you. Sir Edgar is more an American than an 
Englishman, he tells me ; and, thinking to please 
him, I had already invited the American consul to 
dine with us. You too will be glad to meet him by 
and by. Just now my fancy tells me that you would 
prefer to be alone. If the American doctor will allow 


250 


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me,” be ^id, resting a delicate hand upon his arm, 
" we will leave you for the present. Sir Edgar will 
be here soon.” 

Osgood Carleton drew back indignantly. This 
cool impertinence was too much ; for he was thor- 
oughly averse to leaving his sister to the fury of the 
man he had such good cause to distrust. 

'' You cannot mean — ” he exclaimed. 

But Ardavan bowed and smiled and repeated, 
”If the American doctor will allow me. At present 
this is my home. Does he suppose a woman could 
receive an insult under the roof of Ardavan ? ” 

Dr. Carleton looked in despair at his sister. She 
extended her hand, and clasping his, said, Go, 
Osgood, go ! It is much better so.” 

And though he still rebelled. Dr. Carleton found 
himself led as politely and indifferently into another 
apartment as though it were but a friendly fancy to 
show him something new. But now at last even the 
tongue of Ardavan failed to turn his thoughts entirely. 

He moved nervously in his chair. He paced the 
room. He listened anxiously for a cry for help. He 
heard, almost indignantly, the words which the artist 
was speaking. He started as the door opened. But 
it was a stranger, and he turned away in disgust. 
Ardavan, however, sprang forward with unaccountable 
eagerness and grasped his hand. 

Is there any slip ? ” he asked. 

”I believe not,” replied the stranger; ” but we 
must have two witnesses at least to this proceed- 
ing. Is the lady’s relative here ? ” 


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251 


For once Arda van’s voice was less firm and musi- 
cal, and, almost as though embarrassed for the mo- 
ment, he turned to Dr. Carleton. 

beg a thousand pardons,” he murmured. "This 
is the American consul, Dr. Carleton, and this is 
the brother of the lady.” 

The consul took his hand, and was about to speak,’ 
when Ardavan interrupted him. 

" The American consul has seen your sister, and 
wishes us to be legal witnesses, I suppose, to some 
transaction she has made with Sir Edgar Stanley. 
Of course we are ready to do as she may wish.” 
And, with a mute assent from the mystified brother, 
the three entered the room they had lately left. 

Maime stood with her back toward them, looking 
out of the window. Sir Edgar was leaning upon a 
chair, and smiling defiantly. But he was far from the 
same man whom Osgood Carleton remembered. The 
dress was less scrupulous, the hand was less firm, 
the face was less delicate, the eye was less steady, 
and the smile less deliberately calm. Wine and de- 
bauchery had begun to tell their fearful tale, and the 
proud and wicked nobleman was paying the fine to 
the devil for the help he had received from him. 

" There are these papers to be signed in your pres- 
ence and by you,” said the consul, speaking very 
low, "and then the work is finished, so far as I can 
do it. It will only require ratification by legal au- 
thority in America to be valid forever. The force 
begins with the moment of signature. Your name 
should come first,” he added, bowing to Sir Edgar. 


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Maime only turned her head to see if she were ad- 
dressed, but as the Englishman stepped forward she 
assumed her old position again. 

Sir Edgar signed the paper, with an unsteady hand ; 
and Maime, responding a moment later, wrote her 
name beneath it. 

” May I read the paper before I witness the signa- 
ture ? ” asked Dr. Carleton. 

"It cannot be necessary,” said Ardavan, but as the 
consul bowed assent the doctor sat by the table, and, 
with his head supported on his hand, he read the ir- 
regular lines which had evidently been written by 
Sir Edgar himself ; and from the already darkened 
ink it was equally evident that he had written them 
before the appearance of his wife upon the scene. 

It said : "I, Edgar Stanley, born in Bombay, 
India, make this confession of my own free will, 
and in justice to a woman whom I have deeply 
wronged. My marriage with Mary Carleton, of 

, U. S. A., was absolutely and entirely illegal, 

for causes which I admit with this confession. Nor 
since that fifteenth day of July, 1863, has there been 
a time when it could have been legal, nor has the lady 
named, by any act or deed, become my wife except 
in name. She came to me under false pressure, in- 
nocently. I have no claim whatever of any nature 
against her, and simply ask for mercy.” In a sealed 
envelope was the statement referred to. Then fol- 
lowed the legal form of agreement, to accept the 
terms, the two signatures, and soon Dr’ Carleton s 
name, and that of an American gentleman summoned 


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253 


from a neighboring hotel, on account of Persian su- 
perstitions, which prevented Ardavan from witness- 
ing the document. 

The papers, duly sealed, were delivered toMaime, 
who, through it all, had not turned from the window. 
The American consul pulled his hat down over his 
eyes in the characteristic mode of his countiymen, 
and, with a grim and would-be-professional smile, 
said farewell. Dr. Carleton and his sister followed, 
each giving a warm pressure of the hand to Arda- 
van, and left, probably forever, Jerusalem, Damascus, 
Bagdad, Bushire, Aden, and Egypt. 

The two men were left face to face alone together. 
The fiendish smile only deepened on the lips of the 
English nobleman, but the reckless, careless expres- 
sion faded from the face of Ardavan, and for a mo- 
ment one might almost have heard a fly treading 
upon the window-pane. Then, glaring fiercely upon 
the young artist, every fibre of his frame trembling 
with an emotion that in his better days he would 
have hidden from the eyes of an enemy, the English- 
man hissed : ”Now, damn you, I will collect the debt 
of you with compound interest ! ” 

Ardavan folded his arms across a breast that in its 
deep heavings alone betrayed him. His dark eyes, 
unflinching, were fixed upon the wreck of the Eng- 
lish nobleman. His thin lips curved in scorn, but 
there was no tremor ; his voice was clear, almost 
piercing in its ring, as he replied, ''Edgar Stanley, 
I am your debtor. Collect of me ! I am ready to 
meet your demands. I swear, by God above, that 
it wdll be impossible for you to ask too much ! ” 


254 


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Sir Edgar stared vacantly at Ardavan for a mo- 
ment, leaned heavily upon the chair, and, with one 
hand pressed upon his forehead said in a husky, 
broken voice, "I will make the terms to-morrow. 
For to-night I shall be better if left alone.” 

Turning slowly, the artist left the room ; but the 
fiendish smile did not return to the lips of Sir Ed- 
gar, nor did the reckless laugh come back to the face 
of Ardavan. 


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255 


CHAPTER XXIX. 



lOR a moment Sir Edgar stood watching the 


-L door, which had closed behind Ardavan. He 
trembled as though he were afraid of it. Then he 
slowly approached, and turned the key. The other 
doors he bolted, and threw himself upon a low divan. 
It was fast becoming dark. Shivering, he lit the 
swinging lamp. The moving shadows, as it flickered 
and swayed from side to side, made him shudder. 
He covered his eyes with his hands. The figures on 
the Turkish rug came squirming and writhing up to 
him. He drew his feet on to the divan, and hid his 
face in the pillow ; but imagination was worse than 
the reality, and with a shudder he turned over again. 

The heavy curtains, in the uneven glare of the 
lamplight, gathered themselves up into ghostly 
shapes, and great, gaunt hands extended from them, 
with wriggling fingers, clutching for his throat. He 
sprang to his feet, hurled the divan pillow at the 
phantoms, and fled to the opposite side of the room. 
There, upon an Eastern pedestal, stood an antique 
hourglass. Staggering and cringing, he examined 
it for a moment. It indicated seven o’clock. ” You 
lie ! ” he gasped, and dashing it upon the floor 
crushed it to atoms. Then he turned again to the 
divan, his heart throbbing as though his body were 
not large enough to give it space, and it would burst 


256 


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its confines ; but the bamboo cushions melted away 
before his eyes, and slimy, scaly monsters took their 
place. The divan, too, was slowly swinging and 
swaying to and fro, and creeping toward him. The 
shadow which he cast upon the floor sprang up in 
hideous form before him. He leaped behind the 
table. The glass of the broken sand-clock crackled 
beneath his feet, and sounded like the hiss of demons 
coming through the floor. Then the room was filled 
with a ghastly company of moving corpses, the grave- 
dust clinging to their draggling shrouds, and drop- 
ping from their discolored faces, and each one hissed 
and grinned and laughed at him ; and, round and 
round the room as he might go, he found the circle 
still complete. The very air began to smoke and 
wriggle with the horrible creations of his wine-stained 
brain. With both hands clinched, he clutched his 
hair, and wrenched a matted tangle from his head. 
The agony was a joy and a relief. The tortuous and 
terrible fancies faded into the mists from which they 
had risen, and for a moment the lamp swung and 
the curtains hung, and the divan rested as before. 
Only the wreck of the hourglass lay upon the floor 
to tell of the terrors that for the moment had ceased 
their torments. Edgar Stanley, staggering across 
the room, grasped a decanter of wine which stood 
upon the table, and drained the last drop. By its 
fiery influence he was sobered, and, glaring in the 
face of the inevitable, he smiled. It was a ghastly 
facial contortion, and he groaned, ” So you have come 
at last ! ” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


257 


Up and down the room he paced in fearful excite- 
ment ; then, stopping suddenly before a mirror, he 
folded his arms, and calmly scrutinized himself. 

” Edgar Stanley,” he said solemnly, "your day is 
done. Your life and your body are ruined, and your 
soul is lost ! Defied by a woman ! You are crippled, 
and you cannot move.” 

He held out his hand, and watched it tremble as 
though palsied. He bent forward, and looked deep 
into his own sunken and besotted eyes. "Power- 
less ! ” he groaned as he turned away. He took a 
small vial from his pocket, and looked at it. 

"That was for Osgood Carleton,” he said. Slowly 
he raised it to his lips, and dropped his head, that its 
contents might fall fiir down his throat. His teeth 
chattered violently. His hand shook till he almost 
dropped the vial. 

"Ugh ! ” he groaned, and threw the contents on the 
floor. "I do not want to die. No, no! I cannot 
die ! ” 

And, down in the shadows that floated round the 
room, glittering eyes glared at him, and the .echoing 
of his chattering teeth filled the room with unearthly 
sounds. 

Blindly he grouped for the decanter again, and, 
seizing it, threw it passionately to his lips ; but only 
the gurgle of his own breathing resounded through 
the empty globe. He hurled it from him, and it lay 
shattered on the floor ; but, like the phoenix, it slowly 
rose again as a great, grim coffin, open at the lid, 
empty and waiting for an occupant ; and, while he 


258 


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shuddered before it, it assumed vitality, and, slowly 
tipping from side to side, came down the room. 

"A living grave ! ” he gasped. ” The poison ! where 
is it ? ” 

Scattered on the floor. And his hands, twisted in 
terrible contortions, were piteously extended, plead- 
ing to the velvet carpet to give him back his poison. 
But each tiny drop was a devil, damning him in mer- 
ciless mockery. 

Ardavan’s girdle lay upon the table with the dia- 
mond-studded dagger in its rest. Sir Edgar dragged 
it from its sheath, and frantically plunged it toward 
himself. But his helpless arm missed even that short 
range. He made only a slight cut across the back of 
the other hand. 

When he saw the blood trickling from the wound 
he dropped the dagger, and groaning piteously and 
trembling endeavored to stanch the blood. 

didn’t mean to,” he cried. — I. No, no, 
no ! I do not want to die. I cannot die ! ” 

Great drops of perspiration, apparently icy cold, 
fell from his forehead. The coffin faded into the 
mists, and the mists sank into the curtains. The rug 
lay quietly upon the floor, and, with a deep groan. 
Sir Edgar fell heavily upon the divan. A moment 
later the perspiration ceased. Great knotted veins 
appeared, crossing his white temples, a lurid flame 
flashed before his eyes. His head was floating in a 
flood of fire. 

One groan, one superhuman struggle shook his 
frame, and then every muscle and nerve relaxing, he 


THE ONLY ONE. 


259 


lay motionless upon the divan; a fragment of the 
cushion’s lining, torn from its fastenings, mangled 
between his teeth. Thus, cold and dead, he lay be- 
fore the eyes of Ardavan, in the morning. 

It was very strange, that meeting, when one knew 
of the parting the night before. In the dark face 
and brilliant eyes there was no trace of all that icy 
mockery. The wondrous voice forgot its marvellous 
melody. Death came nearer to Ardavan than all 
his grim, bronze idols. He could scoff at emotion, 
but he too could find a heart. 

He thought of Damascus, perhaps, perhaps of 
Bagdad, possibly of Jerusalem. 

He thought of the living, at least ; and, as he looked 
at the dead, his slender hands trembled till the dia- 
monds flashed with an unwonted fire, and the delicate 
fingers folded themselves over the dead man’s fore- 
head, and pillowed the olive-brown cheek, and felt 
the fiery tears of Ardavan. 

Thus the curtain fell, silently, upon the last scene 
of the drama. The forfeiture which the Englishman 
demanded in the morning was a burial at the hands 
of Ardavan, and was fully and freely paid. One 
mourner and one priest and four Persian servants 
formed the funeral cortege, as it wound slowly 
through the Gate of Jerusalem out into the low val- 
ley of Hinnom, and beyond it to the hill that faces 
the setting sun. And there, to-day, and doubtless 
for many years to come, may be seen the low marble 
slab, a square shaft, sunken almost to a level 
with the ground, because the story that it tells is of 


260 


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importance to so few. But it testifies to any trav- 
eller who may stoop to read the inscription that 
beneath it is buried the body of Sir Edgar Stanley. 
It is sacred to no memory ; it signalizes not one good 
deed that could have been registered upon such a 
shrine. It tells the traveller the entirety of its tale 
when it asserts that Sir Edgar’s body lies buried 
there. Even Ardavan dared not go further, and hope 
what the future of that soul might be. But, leaving 
the marble slab to mark the spot, that it might not 
be unwittingly disturbed by man, and with a sigh of 
deep, heart sympathy, he mounted the great white 
camel, and with his Oriental caravan sailed out once 
more upon that great white sea, lying between Jeru- 
salem and Bagdad. 


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261 


CHAPTER XXX. 

A S Dr. Carleton had feared, they had scarcely 
reached Europe when the sudden reaction and 
freedom proved too much for his sister, and Maime 
suftered serious illness for several months.. They 
heard of the death of Sir Edgar, through the Ameri- 
can consul ; and, as there was no longer cause for 
haste in returning to America, they spent nearly two 
years in wandering among the delights of the land 
which had offered only terrors when they had seen it 
before. The winter coming on again, found them 
turning once more toward Naples. 

Naples ! Of all the world ! Lost from the 
Levant, but not from Oriental loveliness ! Towers 
upon sunny hills ! Terraces on the sunny sea ! 
Palaces and villas, picturesque poverty, squalor, and 
matchless magnificence ! No tongue can tell it all. 
And the eye ! Ah ! see Naples and die? No, no ! 
See Naples and know, at last, the reality of life’s 
long, endless holiday ; where, from the prince to the 
pauper, from the aged matron, treading on the tomb 
that is brilliant with roses and hidden in the folds of 
beautiful rainbows, to the little belle who hardly 
knows why it is that she is loved and courted, life 
runs a royal race with romance, love, and happiness, 
and Time treads lightly as his cruel feet fall on 
flowers. 


262 


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They sat in that passionately picturesque garden 
with the broad and beautiful Chiaja on one side, San 
Martino looking down from on the hill, and the fitful 
flashing of the far-famed Naples bay upon the other 
side, Capri in the distance, and to the left the smok- 
ing summit of the black murderer of Pompeii and - 
Herculaneum. 

They had each seen too much and too little of the 
romance of life to care to enter into its mysteries 
again, nevertheless they enjoyed seeing others en- 
joying it ; and it was with sadness that they realized 
that life was real and life was earnest, and that there 
was more in it than whiling time away at Naples. 

”We must go back to America,” said Osgood. 

”We will start to-morrow,” Maime replied. 

No wonder they sat later than usual in the garden 
that evening. 

Capri had flashed like a diamond in the distance 
and disappeared. Vesuvius had wrapped his rugged 
lava ribs about with a rich Tyrian mantle. Deeper 
and deeper into the shadows of night he had shrunk 
away, till all that was left now was the black outline 
and the perpetual pillar of cloud. From the superb 
pavilion one of the finest of Italian orchestras was 
discoursing such passionate music as might almost 
have tlirilled the frozen souls of the marble gods and 
goddesses. In and out among the maze of greenery, 
down the long garden, and where the lamps burned 
most brilliantly, mercenary mongers were dealing 
deliciously cool creams and fragrant ices. Here and 
there were sparkling wine and crystal, cream-crusted 


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263 


coffee. Again the brother and sister lingered, lost 
with the rest, in the extravaganza of dreams and 
fairy-land. 

Nothing could have been more natural than that 
these rambling thoughts of farewell should have 
carried Dr. Carleton still farther eastward, to that 
distant dwelling on the banks of the Tigris at Bag- 
dad. He was going back to America, to enter at last 
upon the vigorous struggle for a name that should be 
more enduring than a banker’s gold could purchase. 
In the long and tedious drudgery of his profession he 
felt sure that it would be years, at least, before he 
should again see the sunshine of Italy even, and sadly 
realized that doubtless he should never meet again 
that strangely fascinating, strangely genuine friend. 
He saw each form and feature outlined in the grace- 
fully bending branches above their heads. He heard 
his voice in the sweetest strains of those wild Italian 
melodies. He saw his eyes flashing in the stars that 
pierced the leafy canopy. The dream made him rest- 
less. His cigar lost its fire. The cream no longer 
sparkled in foam upon his coffee. His ice was not 
even cool. He turned nervously in his chair. A 
strange feeling possessed him, as though some spirit, 
unseen, were standing by his side. Involuntarily he 
moved his head ; his eyes wandered over that gay 
company, to the most distant corner of the brilliantly 
lighted pavilion, and, suddenly fixed in blank aston- 
ishment, they rested full upon the face of Ardavan. 
Black eyes as brilliant as the stars ; smooth cheeks 
of olive brown ; black hair, defying the Persian fez ; 


264 


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a perfect hand and flashing diamonds. Yes, that was 
Ardavan, — fearless, reckless Ardavan. He sat with 
his cheek supported in his palm, looking, apparently 
in utter unconsciousness, directly into the eyes of 
Dr. Carleton. 

The music ceased. Dr. Carleton said to his sister, 
" I will be back in an instant,” and hurried toward the 
Persian artist through that maze of tiny tables and 
laughing revellers. He wondered if it were possible 
that the artist had not recognized him. Surely he had 
given no sign. In less than two years, could he have 
forgotten all ? He was not able to look far ahead 
again till he had very nearly reached the spot where 
Ardavan had been sitting. There he paused, and 
looked about him. Everything was apparently just 
as it had been, except before one table. There a waiter 
was removing an empty glass, and a European had al- 
ready grasped a chair that must have been vacated 
but an instant before. But neither in the glare of the 
nearer lamps nor down the long avenues in any di- 
rection could he see an outline bearing the slightest 
resemblance to Ardavan. He returned, disappointed, 
to his sister ; but they did not leave Naples in the 
morning. 

A week went by. Then they saw again this 
mysterious, metaphysical brigand of Bagdad. He 
was riding in a royal coach, beside a princess of the 
blood. A conquest ! People stared, and said aloud, 
"Is he son of the Pasha, that he makes a victory like 
this ? ” Had they known him better, they might have 
thought it only something more to laugh over when 


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265 


he was again in his studio at Bagdad. And they 
might still have been mistaken. But there was noth- 
ing in the world that did not seem to yield to him. 
The princess smiled upon him, and seemed proud of 
the honor he bestowed. 

He laughed as they dashed madly down the Chaija, 
and the diamonds on his fingers flashed in the Nea- 
politan sunlight as they had shone at Bagdad and 
Damascus ; for in all the throng that crowded the 
Chaija he had recoginized the Americans, and waved 
that same Oriental salaam, and he was gone. 

Again they were watching the sun go down, this 
time from the abutment jutting out from the garden 
over the beautiful bay. It has been changed some- 
what, but hardly improved, in the late enlargement 
of the garden. A yacht shot round the point where 
the fort projects, and almost within a stone’s throw of 
the jutting abutment. She bore a merry party down 
the bay for an evening sail to Capri. At the helm 
sat the master of the yacht, the inevitable and grace- 
ful Ardavan, gathering curious combinations of color, 
perhaps to work into his clouds when he should reach 
his studio in Bagdad. This time the dark fez was 
lifted, in American fashion, and as ever the diamonds 
flashed, the white teeth shone. He turned the helm, 
and the yacht shot away over the bay into the crimson 
mists. 

Two days again, and Dr. Carleton said to his sister, 
” This waiting is useless. We might as well be on 
our way.” ^ 

Maime shrugged her shoulders, and replied, "I 


266 


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am sorry not to see him, but surely he has had 
abundance of opportunity. If he wished he would 
have found us.” 

"To-morrow we will start,” said her brother. "To- 
night let us see the play at San Carlo.” 

They were coming out of the theatre, — the great- 
est and grandest of its kind in all the world. None 
but travellers ever go with a distinctive idea of en- 
joying what is put upon the stage simply, and none 
but travellers are ever disappointed. A hand was 
laid on Dr. Carleton’s shoulder, and, turning, he 
almost instinctively greeted Ardavan. 

"You have been in Naples long?” he asked, in the 
old, indifferent way, and without waiting a reply. 
" I have fancied I might have seen you or some one 
like you once or twice upon the street, but never very 
near. There are so many people in these horrible 
great cities, and they crowd about one so merci- 
lessly in this Western world and jostle so, that one 
always feels more like looking out for himself than 
looking out for friends.” 

They reached the outer door of the grand entrance, 
and the artist offered them seats in his carriage, — an 
elaborate display, with two Persian footmen. "I wish 
this were a drove of camels,” he added, with a laugh. 
" Your elegant carriages make ono feel like a help- 
less invalid.” 

The two had not far to go, and, in truth, with 
American dignity somewhat aroused by the peculiar 
mood of Ardavan, they declined the invitation, ex- 
plaining that they proposed taking a farewell walk 


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267 


through the garden, as they left the city in the morn- 
ing. 

Ardavan bowed and smiled, just as he had to the 
princess, just as he had to Sir Edgar, but to their 
surprise asked permission to accompany them. 

"I think I told you that I had a sister in Europe,” 
he said to Dr. Carleton, as they walked. "She 
pretends to be getting what your extravagant 
people call an education. How it will benefit 
her is more than I can see. Some day she 
will fall upon the altar which men who know 
nothing about it call 'love.’ She will then become 
only the legal prisoner of a man.” Ardavan snapped 
his delicate fingers in disgust. "But nevermind. 
She has captured many accomplishments already, and 
I am urging her with all my power to return with me 
to our home in the East. Will she go ? I am sure 
I do not know. She is here in Naples now, to see 
her host of worshippers make fools of themselves. 
And partly, perhaps, it may be that she came here 
to see me. But she has so many friends up among 
the lords of this paltry nobility that I hardly dare 
touch the tiny tips of her fingers. I know for a cer- 
tainty, however, that she is a true, unsullied girl, 
with a heart that Heaven holds above suspicion. And 
the end of it all is this. I am going to dine with her 
to-morrow ; and if you will do me a rare favor, that as 
an Oriental I cannot forget, you will accept my sup- 
plication and two brothers and two sisters, we will 
eat of the sacred salt at her table. Here is the ad- 
dress. Do me the honor to delay your departure for 


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a single day. Eemember that my sister is sensible, 
and judges no one by the fitful falsity of an evening 
costume. You will receive the warmest welcome if 
you come in the dress you would have worn upon 
your way to Kome. And now farewell ! God guard 
you till we meet again.” 

Ardavan was gone, as the phantom shadow of the 
shivering leaf that lay across the path floated away, 
leaving no trace behind. 

Shall we remain?” asked Osgood, doubtfully. 

”It would surely be a rudeness to refuse,” said 
Maime, looking up into her brother’s eyes with a lit- 
tle laugh, as who should say, "What a fool I am to 
imagine you would be tempted to decline ! ” and 
added, "We do not understand this man. But he 
certainly was honest in his invitation. And then, if 
this sister should be as wonderful a woman as he is a 
man, why — ” 

"Why, what?” asked Osgood, bluntly. 

" Oh, nothing much,” said Maime. " I was just 
thinking a little, that was all.” 


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269 


CHAPTEE XXXI. 

I T was close upon the Neapolitan dinner hour when 
Dr. Carleton and his sister were ushered into 
such a reception hall as a vivid fancy might have 
pictured as the home of a sister of Ardavan. Almost 
instantly a Persian servant appeared, and, in very 
broken English, informed them that her mistress 
begged that they would forget formality, and present 
themselves at once. They followed the servant into 
a smaller room, even more elaborately furnished. 

Eeclining upon an Eastern divan, in an indistinct 
confusion of pillows, fanned by a Persian maid, sitting 
on a cushion at her feet, regaled from a case of 
perfumed cigarettes and a delicate decanter of spark- 
ling wine, upon a glistening stand of Turkish mosaic, 
thus they found Zobeide, the sister of Ardavan. 
Within all this was Ardavan’s face, in eyes and lips, 
and yet a face as different from Ardavan’s as the east 
is from the west. 

The skin was whiter than Ardavan’s. Only a faint 
shadow of the Orient fell over her, marking the 
cheeks with the warm blood of that sunnier land ; 
while her hair was as golden as the morning when it 
breaks over the Naples bay. The superb figure was 
clad in that matchless costume of the East, concealing 
only that it may betray. Just below the shoulders 
broad silver bands encased the arms, lustrous with 


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diamonds. Upon her fingers diamonds shone in sil- . 
ver settings, mocking the vain attempts of gold to do 
the jewels one half the justice they deserve. Tinkling 
sandals encased her feet ; bands of embroidered gold- 
cloth, in braids, bound them over the delicate ankles. 
The melodious voice was just as one might have 
thought from hearing her brother speak ; but the 
slight accent of Ardavan was scarcely perceptible in 
the words of Zobeide. 

"Alas!” she said, "I fear I must disappoint you 
very much. My brother has gone to Rome. He 
said he did not dare to tell you he w^as going, for he 
wanted me to have the pleasure of seeing you, 
and he knew that you would not come to see me alone. 
He did not even tell me why he was going ; and I was 
frightened, it was such an unusual thing to see him 
fettered with a wee bit of business, — he who hates 
the very word, say it in whatever language you will. 
But I noticed in a Roman paper this morning that 
the great Persian philosoper Ardavan was to deliver 
an address there, upon some terrible subject, on 
some incomprehensible occasion or other. I laughed 
when I read it, to think how raving that precious 
brother of mine will be when he sees it. Angry ! — 
that word is not half strong enough I You must 
know how he hates anything which makes a pretence 
of being great in this little world, where the mightiest 
is so very, very small, — only a little handful of dust, 
caught up at a street corner by a passing breeze, to 
be dropped again at the next, and forever forgotten. 
But philosopher ! Ah, there they have my proud 


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271 


brother where he cannot creep away. For the veriest 
philosopher who ever lived and breathed is my boy 
Ardavan ; though he hates the name like a bad 
picture. He has asked a Neapolitan nobleman to 
take his place at our table to-night. I see he is in the 
saloon. Pardon me if I send Philoah to have him 
introduced at once. Poor thing, she can understand 
nothing but Persian dialects, so you must excuse 
me.” 

She gave the order, and the Neapolitan was intro- 
duced. He was such a man as Ardavan might have 
been supposed to select as a friend, with dignity and 
sound value evident in every action ; but, with all the 
characteristics true to the dictates of Naples, he im- 
mediately proceeded to devote himself as ardently to 
Maime as though they had been the nearest friends 
for years. Thus, through the dinner hour and hours 
that followed it in startling rapidity. Dr. Carleton 
found himself alone in the bewildering charms of 
Zobeide. 

Morning was dawning in the east when the little 
company broke up, only too readily accepting an 
invitation to enjoy with their hostess her coach and 
four upon the Chiaja in the afternoon. 

Osgood Carleton was ill at ease as they rode home. 
The perspiration on his brow was neither the effect 
of physical exertion nor dissipated ])y the morning 
breeze blowing in from the bay. Maime only added 
to the disturbance by saying, "Brother Osgood, in 
spite of the Occidental notions to which we are born 
and bred, I cannot help loving that beautiful woman. 


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She comes nearer to my heart than any woman I ever 
met, with a single exception.” 

Again, though strangely, perhaps, even as she 
spoke he was thinking more of that single exception 
than of the sister of Ardavan. 

Doubtless Kittie Cosgrove had long before forgot- 
ten him ; and yet he remembered the revelation by the 
tomb of Zobeide in the plain of Bagdad. He remem- 
bered his word to Ardavan, ” In the past, as to-day, 
I have loved but thee,” and wondered if it were possi- 
ble that this living Zobeide could possess the power 
to obliterate that memory. 

In a maze of magnificent equipages, with Zobeide 
beside him, upon whom thousands of admiring eyes 
were turned, only devoting every thought and word 
to him ; with his sister’s eager approval in every look, 
could one wonder that a memory which so long had 
lain in the mists of the past should fail to exert a re- 
straining hand ? He began to wonder why he had 
thought that fascination such a fearful thing. But 
more than once he caught his thoughts, and called 
them back to Naples. They were away climbing the 
hill by the cemetery. He was calmer than upon the 
night previous. He was more clear in his estimates. 
He realized that it would be but a natural impulse 
of the moment to fiill upon his knees, and worship 
that dream of maddening beauty. And love her? 
Who that had a heart could fail? Yet, in calm- 
ness, he knew T would not be with his v:hole 
heart. 

They left the carriage at their own door at last. 


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273 


when Zo])eide, who had waited till the last moment, 
much as her brother always waited, apparently that 
he might carry every point without discussion, turned 
suddenly to Maime, saying, ” Indeed, we must meet 
again to-morrow. I shall never forgive my brother 
that he has kept me in unhappy ignorance so long. 
You must both go with me to the theatre to-morrow 
night. That is where my brother pointed you out to 
me. My box has been empty for two nights, now, 
and only thus will my friends there feel doubly repaid 
for an apparent lack of hospitality.” 

Maime glanced toward her brother. He hesitated. 
Zobeide turned upon him suddenly with a little 
laugh : — 

"Do not fear that I shall disgrace you with a 
Persian costume. I only wear it to please my brother, 
and in my own domain. I shall be a sombre and 
sober Neapolitan woman .to-morrow night. Good by . 
till then,” and she was driven away. It was pre- 
cisely like Ardavan. She had not even waited for a 
reply. 

"Of course we shall go,” said Maime the next 
morning. But her brother shook his head. When 
beyond the presence of the enchantress he realized 
her power, with its great strength lying in the fact 
that she had evidently no possible desire to wield it 
over him. 

" She asks us purely in deference to her brother, 
Maime,” said Osgood, thoughtfully. "Now, if I 
should go there in precisely the same way, I think I 
should be a little more than mortal. Her beauty be- 


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wilders me. I do not see things in a calm, clear way, 
then.” 

" Well, if I were you, and had a chance like that, I ’d 
just try if I could n’t make her see things in the same 
light, and then — ” 

"Maime, why haven’t you married a half-dozen 
fellows who have asked you in the last year ? ” 

” Did n’t love them, of course.” 

” Why of course ? ” 

"Why, I loved some one else, you goose.” 

" Do you expect he will ever marry you ? ” 

” Of course not, Osgood. Don’t talk about that.’’ 

” I did n’t mean to, Maime, but — ” 

Maime looked at her brother in astonishment for 
an instant. She had not imagined that he too was 
bearing a burden at the heart. She said no more, 
but went alone with Zobeide. She made the best 
excuses possible, and Zobeide apparently accepted 
them, till the last moment, as ever, during the ap- 
plause following the last act. Then she leaned toward 
Maime, and whispered, ” The American doctor did not 
come to-night, because I have offended him in some 
way. I have not desired to, and Ardavan will be 
very angry with me. I do not know all your customs. 
I have done wi’ong.” 

Maime earnestly assured her that it was false. 

”I hope so,” said Zobeide, faintly; "but Ardavan 
will be back again to-morrow, and unless your brother 
will come with you to dine I shall be sure that I am 
right.” 

Maime promised, and Dr. Carleton irresolutely 
obeyed. 


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275 


Again he was alone with Zobeide, for Ardavan 
would not return till late in the evening. The lamp- 
light gleamed and flickered treacherously. Did he 
resolve or think of resolutions? One glance from 
Zobeide’s flashing eyes made will a nonentity. Love ? 
No, it was simply madness. 

He knew it was madness ; but as he smoked those 
fragrant cigarettes with her^ as he sipped the fiery 
wine of the East from the tiny glass she held to his 
lips with those matchless fingers ; as he sat upon the 
perfumed divan by her side, listening to her low 
laugh, and wondering how he came there, — in the 
ecstasy of that moment he was satisfied with madness. 
He could have clasped her to his heart, though death 
had been the penalty. He could have closed his eyes, 
and leaped into eternal tortures for a few paltry hours 
of such delirium. What did love signify ? 

Still he hesitated. Fortunately he had seen and 
heard enough of the customs of Persia to realize that 
Zobeide’s intent was but to show every cordial hos- 
pitality to her brother’s friends, and he hesitated in 
yielding to the madness which was overpowering 
him, because, at last, he had heard enough and seen 
enough of his own world, too, to know that one is 
not alone in making such a choice. Could Zobeide, 
beholding the world of nobility kneeling at her feet, 
be satisfied with him? And, were she satisfied, 
would it be with less than an entirety of love ? It 
would be an outrage, an insult. No, he would not 
even think of it. 

”My brother loves you,” said Zobeide. "He 


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would be very angry with me if I did not love you 
too.” 

Love ! Did Dr. Carleton pause at that moment to 
realize that doubtless Zobeide’s imperfect acceptation 
of that word in English meant no more than admira- 
tion ? Who in that bewildering ecstasy would have 
sought for such an antidote? A look, a word, an 
accident might have saved him ; but the Persian cigar- 
ettes were too fragrant, the wine was too full of fire. 
And Zobeide ! Had she no mercy ? Could she not 
see? — she, the sister of Ardavan, guileless beyond a 
doubt, could she not comprehend? Or, wonder of 
wonders, did she mean what she was saying? 

"You are like Ardavan. You are, except Arda- 
van, the first who ever made me love. I think you 
have taught me what love is.” 

She said it precisely as she would have said it to 
Maime ; precisely as Ardavan would have announced 
some new discovery among Babylonish tombs. But 
could mortal man remain in cold philosophy at such 
a time? Dr. Carleton saw but the flashing eyes, 
heard but the words in that musical cadence, felt all 
the passion which another might have said Zobeide 
lacked, swelling, bursting his veins. 'But in the mad- 
ness of that moment he knew himself as never before. 
He understood, at last, what Guy had said to him. 
He knew well that if he were away from her, even in 
another room, the charms of Zobeide would lack 
something of their power. He looked at her ; one 
of heaven’s most beautiful creations ; and, with indig- 
nation greater than the passion of his heart, his soul 


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277 


rebuked him that he should offer to it such a oaltrv 
sacritice. 

"Zobeide, Zobeide !” he said, in a voice that trem- 
bled with a struggle against himself, ” I do not know 
if I understand what you are saying.” He was upon 
his knee before her, clasping her hand. "I do not 
understand you. No, no ! Say that I do not. I 
have acted falsely with you, if I do. I did not dream 
that one so great and beautiful could love me. O 
Zobeide ! do not look at me in anger. I am un- 
worthy of your love, but I am not a brute. I say it 
late, but Heaven forgive me ! It is better now than 
to deceive you. I loved a woman, once, Zobeide ; I 
loved her with all my heart. I did not know it. I 
was false to her, and left her for another more beauti- 
ful. My heart went back to her too late. It has 
clung to that memory with a love which will not die 
again. Yes, yes, Zobeide ! I will bear that look of 
scorn from you before I will mangle your life with 
mine, which is not worthy.” 

They had both risen to their feet while he was 
speaking. Here Zobeide turned sharply away from 
him, and, with a groan, he sank upon the deserted 
divan, and buried his face in his hands. 

Then suddenly and noiselessly Zobeide turned 
again, bent over him for an instant, and above his 
head made several mysterious passes, which Persian 
magicians know so well, and of which even Ameri- 
cans have lately learned something, just enough to 
make a mystery of it and call it the mesmeric art. 
For a moment there was no effect upon the bowed 


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head, but gradually the labored breathing grew regu- 
lar and low, the muscles relaxed, and the hands fell 
from the forehead, and lay upon the pillow. 

"He sleeps,” Zobeide whispered, gently placing 
his head in a more comfortable position. "He has 
forsrotten all. Ah ! would that no rude wakino: 
might drown delusion and corrode the glistening 
tinsel of each golden dream.” 

She softly locked the door leading to the saloon 
where Maime was so carefully allowing the Neapoli- 
tan to detain her. She bent again over the sleeping 
form, lifted one helpless hand, kissed it, and laid it 
gently back again upon the pillow. 

"You are not like all men. No, you are not like 
the world,” she whispered. "I love you for that. 
But sleep on. It is not time to wake. My love 
shall not trouble you. It shall but live on in your 
heart, and make you happier all your life, because 
Zobeide loves you.” 

She lit a twisted taper, low behind a screen, looked 
at a tiny watch ticking and telling the hours, though 
no larger than a modest seal, set in one of her rings. 

"The Kome train must be in,” she said, and, ex- 
tinguishing the swinging lamp, she left the room. 
The taper behind the crimson screen shed a soft glow, 
like a distant sunset over the apartment. 


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279 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

A MOMENT later Dr. Carleton was silently but 
suddenly roused. It was not like one waking 
from sleep, but wholly and entirely in an instant. He 
recalled everything that had passed, but not as though 
any time had elapsed. The voice of Zobeide still 
sounded in his ears. Yet something bewildered him, 
for it was saying, "And make you happier all your 
life, because Zobeide loves you.” She had not said it. 
He was sure of it, and yet he knew that she had said 
it. He sprang to his feet. A shadow stood among 
the shadows, with folded arms, before him. It was 
just where Zobeide had been standing an instant past. 
The strange, red light bewildered him too. But he 
exclaimed, — 

"O Zobeide, Zobeide! Let me go, and forget 
that I ever existed. Would to God that I were wor- 
thy of your love, but I am not ! No, I am not ! For- 
give me i I shall suffer more than you.” 

"Has the American doctor finished speaking?” 

Dr. Carleton started back. It was not the voice 
of Zobeide. He looked again in the crimson shad- 
ows. 

" Ardavan I You, Ardavan ! ” he exclaimed, with 
a shudder. "I have taken a miserable part here dur- 
ing your absence.” 

"Yes?” replied the artist, without a motion. "Has 


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the American doctor been false ? False to a friend of 
the salt ? ” 

Dr. Carleton looked steadily in his eyes, and re- 
plied, ”No, Ardavan, I have not been false. I have 
been weak, foolish, mistaken, and unkind.” 

" I left my sister with the wish that she show every 
possible politeness to the Americans. Did the Ameri- 
can doctor take advantage of a liberty she could 
never have bestowed but at my command, and to one 
Avhom I introduced, as further from the petty foibles 
of this world than heaven is from earth ? Did the 
American doctor find a heart opened wide to do a 
brother’s will, and did he make an entrance there 
himself, and when it was made, where never man had 
found his way before, did he not then throw the heart 
again upon the ground, and say, 'No ! It is no place 
for me to rest. I do not wish it after all?”’ 

What meant these accusations ? How had Arda- 
van come into the room? When had Zobeide gone? 
These things and many more bewildered Dr. Carle- 
ton. He wondered if that of which he felt conscious 
was the reality, or if in some strange unconsciousness 
he had been guilty of more than he knew. 

"Ardavan, I cannot answer you,” he said slowly. 
"Was I drunken with your wine?” 

" It is impossible ! Our Persian wine is spiced to 
please the palate, it does not bite the brain.” 

"Was I maddened by the cigarettes?” 

" They can but make the body languid ; they can- 
not set the soul on fire.” 

"Then, Ardavan, if I have done all that you accuse 


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281 


me of, I — I — I do not know. But this I do know, 
Ardavan : you are unjust to me, and I can show it to 
you now.” He began to grow excited, and spokd 
with an earnestness which no events of life had before 
discovered in him. "I did not throw her heart away. 
She is more beautiful, more talented, more pleasing, 
and more brilliant than any woman I ever saw. She 
is a true woman. No one with the fibre of a man in 
his being could look into her eyes and doubt. Heaven 
help the man who has not soul enough to work well 
to win a prize like that ! And, more than that, I 
swear to you, upon my honor, Ardavan, that I have 
no hope, no thought that ever in my life I shall meet 
again the woman I love. This is all, Ardavan. I 
simply know that never while I live can I love an- 
other woman as I have and as I do love her. Yes, 
that is all. I tried to say so to your sister when I 
found how her beauty had bewildered me. For 
cursed be he who would lay at such an altar a life 
that is marred with a single flaw ! Ardavan, you 
know, perhaps, better than I, what I have said and 
done. I cannot tell. But as you say I have been 
false to you, I will at least prove my regret. I place 
myself in your hands, Ardavan. You are angry with 
me. It does not matter. Tell me what to do, and I 
give you my word, Ardavan, it shall be done.” 

"Think of the matter to-night,” said Ardavan, "and 
in the morning make the heart’s confession that you 
love my sister, or else such an explanation as would 
best befit a gentleman, either in Occident or Orient. 
You must excuse my sister from seeing our guests 


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again. And as for me, I am trodden under super- 
stitions and dread to see a friend simply to send him 
from the house. There is no need that they be told 
that I have returned.” 

Ardavan bowed, but his lips did not part in a 
smile, and his hands remained folded across his 
breast. Dr. Carleton left the house, feeling painfull}^ 
guilty, and yet satisfied that he had done wfisely in 
turning when he did, even though a greater wisdom 
might have guided him earlier in the same direction. 

In the morning, as.Zobeide reclined upon a dainty 
little divan in her luxurious boudoir, the Persian 
Philoah handed her a note. Her hand trembled a 
little as she opened it, and read : — 

"To Mademoiselle Zobeide : Were I the truest 
gentleman, perhaps I should come myself with such 
an apology as would be most fitting a true gentle- 
man. But I am slow to think and hard to speak. 
In a beautiful dream, so exquisite that I almost for- 
got it could be real, I became enraptured in your 
perfect blending of all that man admires. Others 
have yielded before. I alone was unfortunate, that, 
in the madness of the moment, I did not dream that I 
was laying up an agony for any but myself. I de- 
ceived myself, I deceived you, I deceived your 
brother. I am leaving for America, bitterly to re- 
pent the last three days, so long as life remains ; 
as intensely as I enjoyed them. And your brother, 
too, who has been to me and mine as sunrise in a 
bitter storm, as water in the desert, he too thinks me 


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283 


false. Speak to him for me. Speak to yourself 
for me. Say that *to err is human; to forgive, 
divine.’ ” 

Zobeide folded the letter, and thrust it under her 
embroidered girdle with a little, rippling laugh. 

" At last ! ” she murmured, as she threw herself 
back upon the perfumed pillows. 

" At last, what ? ” asked the Persian Philoah. 

"Oh, nothing much,” replied Zobeide, carelessly; 
"I have found, at last, a man who will not love me. 
That is all.” 

The pretty Persian maid shrugged her plump 
shoulders and laughed, but evidently she did not 
believe it possible. 


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CHAPTEK XXXIII. 

P AEIS was reached on their homeward journey. 

Dr. Carleton stood by the great fountain in the 
Place de la Concorde, restlessly whiling away the 
time which Maime required to devote to the frivoli- 
ties of art with Parisian costumers. He was watch- 
ing a little lame boy perambulate around the square. 
About to throw his life into the details of his deserted 
profession, he took more interest, accordingly, in the 
weaknesses which the art he really loved was calcu- 
lated to relieve. 

A hand was laid upon his shoulder. Once more it 
was Ardavan. This time Dr. Carleton shuddered, 
but Ardavan laughed, and said carelessly, — 

saw you standing here, and came across. You 
ran away from Naples without saying farewell, though 
you were about to put the globe between us. Is that 
American ? An Oriental friend of the salt will not be 
so easily forgotten.” 

Dr. Carleton eagerly grasped the offered hand, 
exclaiming, "I did not come to say farewell, because 
I feared you would not wish me to.” 

" And all because you would not love my sister. 
You Americans are the most curious people I ever 
saw.” 

'' Ardavan,” said the doctor, earnestly, "why will 
you mistake me ? I could have laid my life at the 


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285 


feet of Zobeide, satisfied if she would but use it as a 
footstool.” 

"That makes it still a little more curious.” 

"Did you never love?” Dr. Carleton asked, 
abruptly. 

For a moment Ardavan seemed almost taken off 
his guard. But the next, with a scornful laugh, he 
answered, "Yes. I have loved. I knew a lady 
once ; an American lady, too, now that I think of it. 
She- had very queer ideas of love. She seemed 
utterly indifferent as to whether I loved one woman or 
another, or whether she loved one or another, or who 
loved her. She said that somewhere in this great 
world there must be some one whom God intended 
for some one else (though I cannot see that gods, 
either pagan or Christian, have any real right to 
meddle in our mortal love affairs). But she said 
that till the two thus intended found each other, 
they had much better live alone. That was what she 
was doing, and what she intended to do till she found 
herself in love beyond redemption. What an ab- 
surdity such a system would make of life ! How much 
better the old Oriental system ! ” He smiled, scorn- 
fully. "It was nonsense to think of loving hei 
deeply. I had no time. She gave me this token 
once.” He pointed to a quaint circle of gold, alone 
upon one finger. The setting was curiously wrought, 
and down in the depths of it flashed a brilliant dia- 
mond. " She told me that a sacred chalcedony was 
missing that once fitted over the setting, and that 
upon the two there was written the secret of all hap- 


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piness and unhappiness in love. She was an absurd 
creature. Yes, I have loved, once and only once.” 
Again the lips parted in that incomprehensible 
smile, but Dr. Carleton was too engrossed to no- 
tice it. 

” It is very strange,” he said, " but I once met such 
a lady as you describe, and she gave me, too, a charm ; 
a sacred chalcedony.” He opened a complicated 
seal ring upon his finger, disclosing the treasure en- 
cased within. With an exclamation of delight Arda- 
van lifted the creamy stone from its hiding-place, and 
gazed for an instant spell-bound by the drops of 
blood as they floated in its depths. 

” I have harbored an angel unawares,” he muttered, 
as if to himself, " and only by this mysterious deal- 
ing of destiny I discover the blessing which he 
brings.” 

"It is only a chance resemblance,” said Dr. Carle- 
ton, anxiously. 

Ardavan looked up with a sudden and piercing 
glance. "Was it she? The one of whom you told 
me ? The one you loved ? ” 

" No, no ! I did not mean that, Ardavan. I surely 
thought for the moment that I loved her. She was 
most lovable. But she did not for a moment love 
me, I assure you, and she taught me a most excel- 
lent lesson, too, when — ” 

He paused abruptly ; for, before his astonished 
eyes, he saw the gem which he had treasured slip, with 
hardly the pressure of a finger, into the quaint circle 
about the diamond. 


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287 


” Look ! What a lovely ring ! See ! It is per- 
fect,” cried Ardavan in ecstasy. "'But come, let us 
go to yonder lapidary’s, and read the wonderful secret 
together before we part.” 

This was not the first time that Osgood Carleton 
had found no alternative but to obey. They secured 
the glass, and, one word from the diamond setting, 
one from the rim about the chalcedony, Ardavan 
read : — 

“ Who seeks the diamond in a market-place? 

The costliest pearl can but its setting grace. 

The bud we nurture blooms in rare device, 

The flower, forgotten, fades in paradise.” 

A foolish sentiment for all this fury,” said Arda- 
van, scornfully. Then looking up with a mocking 
lauofh, he added, “Methinks she was making sport 
of both of us.” 

”You are scoffing, — you are cruel!” replied Dr. 
Carleton. 

"I am not scoffing, I am only disappointed,” said 
Ardavan ; ” but if there be a lesson there which you 
have yet to learn, why, take the ring. Keep it. 
Wear it. Profit by it. Ardavan will be well 
satisfied.” 

Dr. Carleton stood looking at the ring as it lay in 
his palm, unable to speak for a moment. Then his 
voice was hardly firm, as he replied, — 

”No, Ardavan, I cannot keep it, — neither the 
whole nor the part. I have bitterly returned to 
you and yours the kindness you bestowed on us. By 


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the terms on which the chalcedony was given me, I 
should have no right to part with it to another, but 
here I am sure I have the right. Take it with the 
ring, and in exchange give me the good-will I have 
forfeited.” 

Ardavan laughed and shook his head. ”I have no 
use for the ring, and no memories that shall be un- 
pleasant. The American doctor’s heart and senti- 
ments are very good. The American fashion of 
setting them out is very bad. It makes life a fierce 
struggle, and love a frightful phantom or a wanton 
debauchery. Think less on it, either to fear or court 
it, and it will think the more of you. One needs not 
love the woman he admires. One needs must wor- 
ship the woman whom he loves. In thinking every 
thrill of sentiment a throb of love, one drives him • 
self from the enjoyment of many a happy hour by 
shunning it, or degrades himself with evil, by dally- 
in^ in that which he believes to be a vice. To 
worship God is evil to him who evil thinks. While 
love in the human heart is the highest, purest, holiest 
motive of which that heart is capable. I speak as 
the pagan that I am, perhaps ; but I think I speak 
honestly. Truth, Liberty, Love, the three graces 
of time and eternity, well understood and vitalized, 
would make this world Olympia I The paradise of 
Indra ! Heaven ! We are parting, perhaps never to 
meet again ; but I shall never forget the American 
doctor, and the American doctor will sometimes re- 
member Ardavan. If the memory of our meetings 
be as sweet to you as it will ever be to me, then, 


THE ONLY ONE. 


289 


like this sky above us, it will be a dome of spotless, 
pure delight ; and if by chance the memory of one 
hour come up, like yonder little cloud upon the hori- 
zon, ’t will be like that, a silvern shimmer, beautiful 
though it break the blue, because it draws a con- 
trast that but makes the rest more redolent and real. 
Be happy, my friend, in the thought that Zobeide has 
loved you ! For, now that it is past, she too is happy 
in that thought.” 

A moment’s pause, a choking at the throat, and 
Ardavan was gone. Whither? Who can tell? 


290 


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CHAPTER XXXIV. 

ARLETOX Cottage and its lovely lawn welcomed 



KJ the returninof wanderers. It had fallen a little 
toward decay in the hands of disinterested tenants ; 
but still it was a place for which they found no equal ; 
not even amid the pleasures of Naples or the palaces 
of Persia. The June roses were blushing, but it was 
a cold and rainy June morning. In their six-and- 
thirty months of uninterrupted summer time, the 
travellers had become unaccustomed to a chill, and 
two or three charred logs burned slowly, after the 
fashion of the good old times, in the great fireplace 
in the hall, filling the room with cheering light and 
piny odors. They had been but a short time in their 
old home, and there was too much distracting work 
to be attended to to admit of Dr. Carleton’s entering 
at once upon the confining duties of his profession. 
What he did he did with all his might, and he had no 
intention of undertaking anything till he was fully 
prepared to devote himself to it in such a way that he 
should force it to succeed upon his hands. Hence he 
was sitting, this damp June morning, in one of our 
angular American easy-chairs, and restfully smoking 
his cigar in close proximity to the great open fire. 

How the shadows come and go between the white 
smoke of a cigar and the glowing under-coals, down 
among the embers ! What a time for the spirits of 


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291 


the lost, the unforgotten in the past, to wander back 
again ! How we live over and over again the long, 
long ago, in a great open fireplace ! O Memory ! 
what a fiend and what a friend ! 

As Osgood Carleton sat there, he seemed to sink 
away from the grand old hall into something very 
like a disembodied spirit, looking down upon one of 
earth’s panoramas of the past. Far in the distance, 
in the deep recesses of the glowing coals, he saw the 
figure of a youth slowly wending his way toward him, 
wandering aimlessly, and yet ever progressing, 
through pastures green and beautiful. The fragrance 
of the day and hour were all-absorbing. The youth 
stooped and picked a little bud, and placed it in his 
bosom. A little farther on he came slowly past a 
cultivated garden. There the flowers seemed to 
bloom more brilliantly for the care that was bestowed 
upon them, and again he picked a bud and placed it 
by the other, crushing the first to make room for it. 
But as he wandered on, the frailer beauty of the artifi- 
cial flower faded and sank away until it lay absorbed 
in the greater strength of the first. 

The youth had passed beyond the pastures now, 
and out of the distant and uncertain shadows of the 
fading flicker. He was hurrying on, through a well- 
kept park, in one of the busy walks of the city. Life 
besran to assume a tenure that was real and earnest. 
He passed a little vender with the same variety of 
flower, — a little wider blown and a little lighter col- 
ored, indicating still greater care. He bought it, and 
hastily would have placed it by the others and over 


292 


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both of them ; for there was no room in the vest for 
more than one such glowing, bursting bud. But, as 
he struggled, in his haste to thrust it into its place, 
the delicate flower fell from its stem, and only a thorn 
beneath it remained to pierce his Anger ; yet, as it fell, 
it did not seem to reach the ground, but only to be- 
come absorbed in the first little bud that gathered 
from it all the glory it possessed, and became even more 
beautiful. And now the wanderer’s way lay through 
the market-place, and then in a still drearier quarter, 
where filth and poverty seemed all alone in their 
squalor and repulsiveness. But though the flower 
upon his vest had gathered from the others all their 
magnificence, the youth seemed too absorbed to pay 
it a moment’s thought. Then suddenly he turned his 
steps down another street, where the way seemed 
lined with the stands and booths of flower-venders. 
The most extravagantly gorgeous of earth’s exotics 
were spread in a dazzling profusion, bewildering the 
eyes the more as they seemed to spring into life from 
such gloomy surroundings. Again the youth beheld 
the same variety of bud that he had found, first in 
the pasture-field, then in the garden, and then in the 
park. But now, having felt the force of the florist’s 
utmost attentions in some great green-house, where 
the sun of the tropics was brought to it, the artificial 
exuberance and the wondrous beauty it had attained 
were so immeasurably greater than anything he had 
beheld before, that, though it had stood in a vase 
alone, as the most costly of all the flowers that were 
exhibited, he purchased it with a random and reckless 


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293 


extravagance. In ecstasy he held it in his fingers, 
and inhaled its wonderful fragrance. He bent his 
head, and, with a touch so delicate that waxen petals 
could not have felt its force, he attempted to p’ t 
it in the place where the others had rested. His 
eyes fell upon the little bud that long had lain almost 
forgotten there. He started back, and looked again. 
Flush and flush, glory and glory, fragrance and fra- 
grance, seemed wandering with bewildering uncer- 
tainty between the bud upon his bosom and the 
blossom in his hand. From one to the other his eyes 
turned in wonder, till, as if touched by a finger of 
magic, the flower in his hand grew paler and less fra- 
grant. He turned to give it back to the vender, 
when lo ! it was only the little bud from the pasture, 
and the flower at his breast had disappeared. The 
vender looked at it and shook his head. 

"When it blooms you’ll find it fairer than you 
think,” he said. "Brightest in bud is not always 
best in bloom. Keep it, keep it ! It will do better 
with you than with me, if you deal fairly by it.” 

Slowly the youth rose up out of the embers, and 
seated himself in the great angular easy-chair before 
the fire, repeating, as though it were a moral im- 
pressed upon him in his morning walk, a rh3Tne of no 
great purity or depth of verse, but with a meaning 
after all : — 

“ Who seeks the diamond in a market-place? 

The costliest pearl can but its setting grace. 

The bud we nurture blooms in rare device; 

The flower, forgotten, fades in paradise.’* 


294 


THE ONLY ONE. 


”What is that you are saying?” asked Maime, 
running merrily down the broad stairs, as in these 
old days — not very long ago. 

" Nothing, nothing ; or that is, not very much,” her 
brother replied, starting, to realize that he himself sat 
in the great easy-chair, and looking, instinctively, to 
see if he had a bud in his button-hole. 

The clouds had disappeared, and the sun shone in 
all the brilliancy of a true June day ; and not to dis- 
pel the vision, but to think upon it, he wandered 
slowly over the green lawn, and on to the gate upon 
the street. Over the hill he saw the cemetery, and 
marked the cluster of trees beside the tomb, which he 
so well remembered. 

” Yes,” he said thoughtfully, ” that is where I found 
the bud which has become so dear to me in my 
neglect. I wonder if the graves are still cared for. 
If not, I will do the work myself. Possibly it may be 
a slight atonement.” 

Another week went by. In the mean time he had 
oiten leaned upon that gate and looked toward the 
cemetery, gathering courage, but not yet venturing. 
Again and again Maime had seen him there, and again 
and again she said to herself, ” There ’s something 
brewing in brother Osgood’s brain ; and I ’ll bet a cent, 
Maime Carle ton, that I know what it is.” 


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295 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

F rom one of those reveries upon the gate Dr. 

Carleton was roused by the rapid beating of a 
horse’s hoofs upon the hard road. It was not the 
delicate canter of a cradle-like saddle-horse, upon 
which a lady or a coward might be supposed to ride, 
but the sharp arid steady tread of a powerful animal, 
rapidly lessenirig the distance between them. In- 
stinctively the admirer of fine horses turned his head, 
sure of something worthy a glance, when, to his sur- 
prise, he discovered a lady magnificently mounted, 
and closely veiled. Dr. Carleton looked with admir- 
ing eyes ; for she was perfect master of the saddle, 
and only started from the lethargy when, directly op- 
posite the gate, she reigned the animal in so suddenly 
that for an instant he almost rested on his haunches. 

''You must have been away,” the lady said. 
" Strange faces have greeted me when I passed the 
cottage. I wanted to thank you for your hospitality 
when I was ill here, and I wondered when you were 
coming back, for I felt very lonesome without my 
little chalcedony. Have you kept it, or lost it, or 
given it away?” , , 

In his astonishment and confusion at thus suddenly 
meeting the owner of the ring, Dr. Carleton forgot 
the first requirements of hospitality ;, forgot even a 
friendly greeting ; and, hat in hand, standing beside 


296 


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the restive horse, he simply replied, have it still. 
If I return it to you as you gave it, will — ” 

”Oh, sir, I did not give it,” she' interrupted him, 
with a low laugh. " I simply loaned* it, with a con- 
dition upon which you might give it away.” 

" You are right. Miss Ashley,” he replied ; ” I was 
only going to ask you to let me see the other half of the 
charm before I parted with the half I have treasured 
so carefully.” 

''You might have asked something less difficult. 
Dr. Carleton,” the lady replied ; '!forI have done 
with the ring precisely what I advised you to do with 
the chalcedony.” 

"You have given it to one you love?” asked Dr. 
Carleton in amazement. 

" I have,” she answered, frankly. " And, more than 
that, to the first, the last, the only one I ever loved.” 

Dr. Carleton’s face flushed as he thought of the 
careless heart of Ardavan , and of the reckless way in 
which he had robbed him of a treasure so dearly 
bestowed. " Pardon me ! ” he exclaimed. " I have 
done a cruel thing in deceiving you. It was because 
I thought you might have parted with it carelessly, 
and that I had a surprise for you.” He took the ring 
from his finger, which had been concealed under his 
hat. 

The lady grasped it eagerly in her gloved fingers. 

"Ah ! ” she cried, ''my own dear little gem, how 
I have missed you ! ” ' 

"I thank you!” she said, turning again to Dr. 
Carleton. " Give my love and my thanks to your 


THE ONLY ONE. 


297 


sister. I shall see her soon.” And, touching the 
horse, she was off again as she came, leaving Dr. 
Carleton more bewildered than ever. He was unac- 
countably annoyed by the incident, especially when 
he remembered the way in which Ardavan had spoken ; 
and, more for quiet contemplation than because he had 
previously resolved to go there, he turned toward the 
God’s-acre lying over the hill. Wandering without 
intention, he stood at last before the two low slabs 
bearing the name Cosgrove.” The spot had hardly 
changed, even in evidence of constant attention. A 
fresh wreath lay upon each lonely grave, and flowers 
freshly planted were between them. Calla lilies 
wer^ growing upon the spot which he had indicated 
seven years before. The rose-bush had flourished 
as he prophesied, and had been carefully pruned 
since it put out its spring leaves. At least she had 
not forgotten him. 

For two weeks he watched the graves, and waited. 


298 


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CHAPTER XXXYI. 


T last she came, in a little pony phaeton, as be- 



Xx fore. He knew that it must be she. He re- 
membered the great sun-hat she had worn. It might 
almost be the very same which she was still wearing. 
It was twisted over her head, and almost covered her 
chin. No wonder he did not remember the color of 
her hair. He waited, concealed in the shrubbery. 

He had learned to look deeply enough into human 
faces now, and he wondered, as he thought how 
superficial his first investigation had been. Seriously 
he asked himself, ” Have I been dreaming, all these 
years, that I loved a woman whose face I could not 
have recognized upon the street? A fool! Am I 
dreaming still?” 

Kittie Cosgrove bent over the lilies first, and 
sprinkled them from an antique vessel in which she 
had brought water from the fountain below. And 
the thoughts of the watcher went back to the dream 
of Ardavan ; the angel, and the lilies. She turned. 
For an instant he saw her face. A thrill of strange 
ecstasy and recognition throbbed in his veins. Un- 
wittingly he had looked beneath that sun-hat, after 
all ; and now that he looked again he found that, un- 
known to him, each feature had been deeply im- 
printed upon his heart. With a sigh of relief he 


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299 


muttered, "No! I was not following a phantom, 
after all.” 

Slowly now he approached the enclosure, and 
leaned upon the paling, just as he had leaned there 
seven years before. There was a strange mingling 
of determination and dread at his heart. He had 
fought hard battles with himself for Kittie Cosgrove, 
never doubting himself or his love for her after he 
had once discovered it. Now, in a sudden tremor, 
he began to wonder if it were really Kittie Cosgrove, 
after all, or only some ideal, which in his imperfect 
appreciation she had represented, that he loved. 

"Good morning,” he ventured faintly, for she 
seemed too much engaged to notice him. She looked 
at him as though he were a stranger, yet he felt him- 
self irresistibly drawn toward her, even in that pas- 
sionless glance. At least it was neither scorn nor 
anger. 

For a moment he stood there, bewildered. That 
strange face which had fascinated him at the hospital 
seemed looking from beneath the sun-hat. The lips 
were thin, and proudly curved. The eyes were 
black and lustrous. She spoke. The illusion 
passed away, and again it was Kittie Cosgrove. 
But the voice was as musical as Zobeide’s. 

" Good morning, sir,” she said, in a very low and 
indiflferent way, and turned to her work again. 

There was little encouragement in that. He stood 
irresolutely for a moment, almost ready to turn away, 
and say that it was not the one, the only one, — 
simply a delusion ! This, after all the struggle through 


300 


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which he had assured himself that, if he could but re- 
turn to this first love, life would at once assume the 
balance it had lost, discomfiture would vanish, and the 
world be bright again. There he stood, wondering 
if, after all, the charms of Carrie Ashley or her 
cousin could not still possess 'the power to turn him. 
His thoughts even carried him back to Naples. Were 
this humble, simple woman his wife,, could he look 
upon Zobeide and remain ever true to the little coun- 
try girl ? He had seen too much of the mockery of 
marriage to wish to run a risk or try an experiment. 

But it suddenly occurred to this constitutionally 
preoccupied mortal that he was basing all these com- 
parisons upon the brightest and best of those who 
had enchanted him, against the crown of a sun-hat 
simply ; for that was what his eyes were fixed upon. 
Before he became too intensely determined, he con- 
cluded to look once more beneath it. 

"You do not remember me, miss,” he said, in the 
hope of gaining a little time for study, and a little 
better ground to think upon. 

" You planted this rose-bush, I believe,” she re- 
plied, without looking up. 

" Good heavens ! ” he groaned, " is that the way she 
remembers ? ” 

"It grows well,” he said aloud. "It pays more 
respect to my memory than its mistress.” 

" Did you take care of what you planted, that it 
remembers you ? ” she asked, . as she softened the 
earth about the rose-bush. 

It was a sharp thrust ; but, knowing he deserved it,. 


THE ONLY ONE. 


301 


Dr. Carleton found something like pleasure in the 
blow. He was not thinking of the rose-bush, as he 
replied, — 

"No, I did not. And I have suffered bitterly 
for my forgetfulness. Experience has been a savage 
teacher, but at last it has brought me back again to 
start life over if I may.” 

"I understand you, sir,” said Kittie Cosgrove, lean- 
ing back against the cold marble. " You acted falsely 
to me. You told me lies ! You broke a poor girl’s 
heart for sport. You have revelled in the world 
since then ; and now, wearied of its brighter 
pleasures, you have come back to me to see if 
the wound is healed. Yes, thank you ! It is quite 
well again, and the rose-bush can flourish without 
your care.” 

She had looked steadily in his face while she spoke, 
and in spite of her words his heart throbbed with 
strange delight. 

He answered her eagerly and solemnly : " You are 
right to accuse me ; I acted falsely. God forgive 
me ! But it was only to myself that I lied when I 
was false to you.” With every word his fears re- 
acted in assurance that, after all, this ivas the reality, 
and he added earnestly : " I come back to you in 
shame, begging forgiveness without deserving it ; but 
I come stronger for past weakness, and wiser for folly, 
and al)le, I trust, to be true to that which has always 
been most dear to me. Forgive me, forgive me ! ” 
He could not have told how he came there, but he 
was surely kneeling on the grass before the orphan 


302 


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girl. He had forgotten that a moment before he was 
uncertain whether he loved her. 

** You may be speaking truly, sir,” she said, in the 
same indifferent tone ; " but, though a woman can 
justify all else in man, she finds it hard to fit herself 
to the foibles of the heart. On that gravestone over 
there, there is an epitaph which long interested me. 
It has often made me think that I was doubtless better 
to be free.” 

Dr. Carleton leaned on the fence, and, upon a slab 
in the next section, down among the weeds and low 
grasses, he read : — 

“ Who seeks the diamond in the market-place? 

The costliest pearl can but its setting grace. ■ 

The bud we nurture blooms in rare device. 

The flower, forgotten, fades in paradise.’’ 

Without apparently noticing his silence, Kittie 
Cosgrove added, " When a woman gives her heart to 
a man, he justly expects the whole of it ; but it has 
been my misfortune to know only of men who wore 
theirs like their overcoats.” 

"I have learned that lesson in hard experience,” 
replied Dr. Carleton. " It would be far easier for 
me to appreciate than to be worthy of your love.” 

” How? Unworthy of a poor girl’s love ! ” 

" I have had money without end all my life ! ” ex- 
claimed Dr. Carleton, almost angrily. ” I have 
wealth that I do not know what to do with. But I 
am poor. You have no money, but you have, to me, 
a wealth which all the gold of earth could not procure 
for me.” 


THE ONLY ONE. 


303 


Kittie Cosgrove smiled. ”I am not poor, sir; do 
not pity me. I am quite independent, I assure you.” 

"You may be rich or poor,” he replied. "It 
matters nothing to me, for it is you ! You ! It is 
Kittie Cosgrove whom I love, who has lived in my 
life these seven years past, giving me more joy and 
sorrow than all the rest of life together.” 

Again she smiled. "You are taking me in igno- 
rance. You would not wish me if you — ” 

" Believe me ! Believe me ! It is love for you ! 
You as you are ! Kot as you have been, not as you 
may be, just what you are, that brings me back to you 
from all the world beside. I was ignorant before. I 
loved you, but the world tempted, and I fell for a 
moment from the clear realization of the love. But 
when the world has spent its force at last, when I 
know it, from end to end, all that there is in it, see ! 
I turn from it. Of my own will I turn to a tempta- 
tion beside which there is no charm in all the world. 
I come to you. From the day when I saw you first 
you have been my life. Others have bewildered me, 
but in truth it was because they made me think of 
you. It is not my strength, but my good fortune, that 
I have escaped. But having escaped, I see the whole, 
and know that it is you. I loved you then. I love 
you now, I shall love you while I live, — you and you 
alone ! Keject me, as unworthy, if I cannot prove 
myself what lam; if you do not love me ; if you will 
not be my wife. But you will. You do, you must 
believe me.” 

"Wait,” said Kittie Cosgrove seriously, — "wait 


304 


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till I have told you all of what I am. Then you will 
know better if I, instead, am worthy to accept and 
able to hold a true man’s love. Come, sit under the 
shadow of these trees, for it is a long story ; and, by 
the sacred dead about us, I promise to tell you truly, 
and to tell you all.” 

There was something in her manner that defied 
reply, and Dr. Carleton obeyed. As he threw him- 
self upon the ground at her feet, instinctively he 
thought of Zobeide. But he no longer wondered if 
there could be a dangerous temptation there. The 
comparison already tempted him to this rather than 
that. 

" My father and mother went from here to Califor- 
nia when they were married. My father became 
very rich. They both died there when I was a little 
girl, leaving me in the care of an aunt. Their bodies 
were brought to the East, but I was to remain in 
California till I came into possession of the property. 
My aunt was a widow, Mrs. Ashley, and I was so 
young that I grew up to call her mother ; and, when 
we came to the East, to save so many explanations to 
the strangers we must meet, I took her name. The 
first and dearest spot I found was this burial-ground, and 
then I found you here the very second time I came. 
My aunt lived in terrible fear that some one, looking 
for my wealth, would deceive me into marriage, so we 
came and remained here as though we were poor. It 
is much the pleasantest place and the loveliest way 
to live. I seemed to love you from the moment that 
we began to talk together. But you were wrong about 


THE ONLY ONE. 


305 


the lilies. They would have done better somewhere 
else. I have only kept them there out of respect 
to your error. I told you that my mother was bur- 
ied here, and you called me Miss Cosgrove. Every 
one else called me Miss Ashley. I told you my first 
name was Kit. It was a name my friends in Califor- 
nia had given me. You made Kittie of it. No one 
else ever called me that. I loved you, and I thought 
that you loved me, and I knew you thought me poor. 
I had hard work to keep your sister from finding 
out all about me ; but it sharpened my wits, as you 
shall see. My aunt was not satisfied. She said it 
might be that you would love me, thinking I was 
poor, but that if another who was rich should come 
you would leave me again. When we went to the 
city for the winter I yielded to her advice, and had 
my heart broken to pay for it. Catherine is my real 
name. Kate, my aunt called me, for she was a stern 
Puritan, but all the rest of my friends called me 
Carrie. You did not see in Carrie Ashley the little 
Kit Cosgrove whose poverty had tempted you to 
bring flowers to this grave.” 

"Impossible !” exclaimed Dr. Carleton. 

"It is as true as that I stand here.” 

"But Carrie Ashley married Sir Edgar, and he 
murdered her.” 

" It is true I married him. He pleased my aunt, 
and I had faith enough in you to promise her that if 
you should be so false to Kit Cosgrove as to ofi*er to 
marry Carrie Ashley, I would accept Sir Edgar. It 
is true, too, that he thought he had murdered me ; but 


306 


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he failed, simply because I did not die. I had one 
good friend beside me when the fire broke out. It 
was a great, dumb dog. I 'do not know how he did 
it, for I was unconscious ; but in some way he got me 
out of the window, and I fell into the deep snow be- 
low. It roused me, but, still unconscious of what I 
was doing, I gained my feet and ran. Sir Edgar had 
hired a man and a woman to do the deed. The man 
was in the hall watching the door, and he perished in 
the flames. The woman was stationed outside to 
watch the window. She had a soft spot down in her 
cruel heart. She saw the leap, and took the uncon- 
scious victim into safe-keeping and pity. God bless 
her ! She atoned for the past in what she suffered 
afterward to prevent Sir Edgar from marrying your 
sister. She failed in that, but she freed her, after 
all. It was she whom you found in Sir Edgar’s 
clutches and rescued. Poor creature ! She died in 
the hospital a little while after you left America for 
Florence.” 

Kittie Cosgrove breathed a long, tremulous sigh, 
as .though the journey through the past were a hard 
one to take. Dr. Carleton lay silently at her feet. 
She continued : — 

" Dr. Carleton, I still loved you. I could not help 
it. But to be true with you, though I never thought 
a time would come when I should acknowledge such 
a love, I did not think you worthy of it. When I 
recoverd from a long illness that followed my escape, 
I found that my aunt had returned from Europe only 
after hearing of my death. I had made a will, leaving 


THE ONLY ONE. 


307 


all my property to her ; and, sooner than wake the old 
horrors, I assumed another character, and I’ved on 
with my aunt as before. But 1 was restless. I was 
almost wild. I feared I was becoming insane. The 
doctors said I was dying of consumption, but I 
laughed at them. Partly because I must have some 
occupation, and partly because I would be nearer to 
you, I obtained the position of nurse in the army, 
and was stationed in Washington. I heard of you in 
the hospital at Baltimore, and went there. I was so 
changed by that brutal suffering that I had no fear 
of recognition. Yet more than once when I was 
standing looking at you in your sleep, I uncon- 
sciously made you dream of Carrie Ashley, and think 
of Kittie Cosgrove ; and I knew by what you said 
in your dreams that you loved one or the other of« 
them, and I wondered which.” 

Dr. Carleton started, in the revery in which he 
had been following her, much as he sometimes 
started in those dreams. Kittie Cosgrove looked at 
him, and with a low laugh added, shaking her head, 
"Yes, and then you showed me that you loved Kate 
Ashley, even after you had loved those other two. 
Can you imagine the agony it cost me, when it made 
me think that you, whom I worshipped, were yield- 
ing in that way to every interesting face you met ? ” 

Suddenly the disclosure to which he was silently 
listening seemed to break in its full force upon Dr. 
Carleton’s bewildered mind. He sprang to his feet. 
"But the ring ! ” he exclaimed. 

"It did you no harm,” she replied, half smiling. 


308 


THE ONLY ONE, 


” A poor lapidary and gold beater, who had a large 
family and was out of work, made it for me. I got 
up the design myself, and I made it elaborate ; for I 
wanted him to earn his living for some time without 
taking it as a charity. Then I had the epitaph on 
yonder gravestone written upon it. He did his 
work well. Don’t you think so ? ” 

” But you told me that you gave that ring to one 
whom you loved ! ” said Dr. Carleton, reproachfully, 
without heeding her question. 

"I told you more,” she replied, ”and that I gave 
it to the only one I ever loved.” 

” And now you have told me that you loved me ! ” 
Dr. Carleton exclaimed, almost angrily. 

Kittie Cosgrove smiled, and in the same low voice 
that had held him in the mysterious spell so long, 
she replied : ”In the Place de la Concorde, in Paris, 
just beyond the lapidary’s, I gave that ring to you.” 

" Great heavens ! ” cried Osgood Carleton. 

But instantly the little orphan girl continued, ” You 
did not heed the promise that you made to me that 
your sister should not marry Sir Edgar. I trusted 
you. Had I not, that marriage would never have 
taken place. I knew nothing about it till it was over. 
I was preparing to enter that terrible prison again, 
when your sister made her escape. I followed her, 
for I knew that she was inexperienced, and that she 
had taken with her as a maid a woman whom I dis- 
trusted as a hireling of Sir Edgar’s. She sailed for 
Europe, and I went too. Unknown to her, I was 
always near her till she settled in Florence. I was 


THE ONLY ONE. 


309 


wearied with the world, and deceived into almost 
trusting in that wretched maid. I thought, too, that 
it could not be possible that you could long leave 
your sister unguarded ; and, securing a friend who 
would keep me posted, I took a part of that unfor- 
tunate fortune and buried myself in Bagdad. I 
went as a man. A woman would have been dis- 
graced and dishonored to have ventured there or 
anywhere unguarded. Such is the nobility of those 
who fall down and worship us ! ” 

She said it with a scornful circumflex and a mock- 
ing laugh that could have come from no lips but 
those of Ardavan. It was easy to recognize it now. 
"A year went by,” she continued. "I learned the 
language, improved in painting, and supported 
myself in such luxury as demanded for me respect 
and protection. I went back to Europe for a little 
while, and there in England I saw Sir Edgar Stanley. 
He did not see me, but I learned that he was search- 
ing for his wife. I feared he might find her, and I 
knew that you could not or would not. I dared not 
face you, and tell you all. I dared not write you ; 
for I thought you must know, and that you were 
angry. I came to America. I found you living in 
a hotel. I hired myself there as waiting-maid ; and, 
in less than a week, when I was wondering how I 
could approach you, I found a letter on your table 
from your sister. It had been delayed in some way, 
and then I understood it all. So the next morning I 
found a way to tell you your sister was in Florence, 
and sent you on your way. I had done all I could, 


310 


THE ONLY ONE. 


and went back to Bagdad. But Sir Edgar was be- 
fore you. He met that maid in Florence, and made 
an arrangement with her to keep him posted, all the 
while, as to where your sister went, that he might 
be near her continually. He would not have 
harmed her ; he simply meant to annoy her till she 
should pay him all her money. Sir Edgar would 
gladly have left her to starve to death, I assure you. 
Later, in the city of Bagdad, to my unutterable sur- 
prise, I met Sir Edgar upon the pontoon bridge. 
Fortunately I was in my palanquin, and he did not 
see me. I knew there was mischief. I covered my 
face and hands with Persian dye. I met him, and by 
gold and flattery I made him my friend ; yes, not 
only my friend, but my slave. I learned from him 
that you ^rere coming. He knew the very boat. He 
had made arrangements to have it stopped below the 
city, and to have you come on at night by mules. I 
pretended to assist him, and persuaded him to have 
his treasure brought to my house. He brought your 
sister and the maid, but said you were not with 
them. I had spoken only in the North Persian dia- 
lect with him. He understood it well, and had no 
idea that I understood English. He felt safe in leav- 
ing your sister there, but she told me all. I might 
have spent a month among the different tombs on 
every hand without finding the right one ; but I hit 
upon a better plan in singing that old song which 
you told me once you liked so well. That is all. 
The rest you ’ll understand.” She leaned with a sigh 
against the gnarled trunk, and her eyes wandered far 


THE ONLY ONE. 


311 


away, as though dreaming again that strange, unreal 
dream, with its facts so much more marvellous than 
fiction. 

”No, no ! ” said Dr. Carleton, " Tell me why did 
you tempt me again in Naples ? Tell me who was 
Zobeide, who so nearly wrecked my life ? ” 

He asked it bitterly. 

" I had forgotten Zobeide,” Kittie Cosgrove replied. 
"After the death of Sir Edgar I thought — No, no, I 
cannot tell you ! I went back to Bagdad. There I 
buried my heart for two years. Then I was sure 
it was all over, and I left Bagdad forever. I 
took with me four of my Persian servants, simply be- 
cause they loved me, and did not wish to leave me. 
I went to Naples, hoping to live there to some pur- 
pose for the good of ^humanity, and to die in forget- 
fulness. 

" The very first week I saw you there. I turned 
at first to run from Naples, but in the end I only ran 
to my Persian dyes and costumes, and thanked 
fortune that I had brought my Persian servants too. 
I could not help longing to see you again, and talk 
with you for a moment. I did see you, but I was 
angry with my heart that it throbbed so. I said, he 
has often deceived me. I said to my heart, I will 
crush you ; now I will show you that he can deceive 
you again. It was cruel to you ; yes. Dr. Carleton, 

I knew it then. But think how cruel you had been 
to me befere ! ” She was sobbing. 

"You had a right to distrust me,” said Dr. Carle- 
ton. "You had a right to demand any test you 


312 


THE ONLY ONE. 


chose. I was only wondering with whom it was that 
I acted that shameful part.” 

She lifted her head suddenly and proudly. It 
was Ardavan again who commanded every faculty to 
instant composure. 

"Had I borrowed an accomplice, you might truly 
hate me. No, no. Dr. Carleton ; neither love nor 
hate could have driven me to that. Ardavan and 
Zobeide never saw each other but in the mirror. A 
little washing and flaxen hair made Zobeide of Arda- 
van. A little more washing, without the flaxen hair, 
has made me what I am. That last night I made you 
sleep for a half-hour with the Persian trick of mes- 
merism. It is a dangerous thing for a woman to 
understand. I shall never, never practise it again ; 
but it served me so well in J^usalem that I have 
forgiven it that it made me take a mean advantage of 
you. Do you remember how Sir Edgar turned, in 
the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and followed me 
out of the building? Oh, all the will of my life I 
threw into my eyes when I saw your sister go to him, 
and knew she was giving up the flight. Thank God, 
I conquered him ! I had not dared to disclose myself 
before, but then I told him all.” 

She was silent for a moment, then added, "And 
now I have told you all. Think it over well. Dr. 
Carleton. There is no obligation resting upon you. 
By and by, if you find that you do not despise me, 
write to the old address down in the village, or 
come and see me there, and let us know each 
other better, without a mask between us, before 


THE ONLY ONE. 


313 


we pledge a life-long promise which we do not 
understand.” 

She rose, and with that sudden and unexpected 
motion, by which Ardavan had so often disappeared, 
she turned away. 

Dr. Carleton sprang to his feet, and clasped her in 
his arms. 

”T^hat!” he cried, looking deep into those lus- 
trous eyes, "shall I let Kittie Cosgrove go again? 
Let Carrie Ashley go again ? Let that blessed nurse 
at the hospital go ? Let Ardavan and Zobeide go ? 
Let the whole list of those who have been dear to 
me, every one in this wide world who has attracted 
my love and admiration, go at a single turn? Oh, 
no, no, no ! Ten thousand times no ! One parting 
wdth each has been bitter enough. I could not bear to 
part with all at once.” 

Let the diamond-flashing hand of the mysterious 
Ardavan throw the Persian curtain over the scene for 
a moment. We can only dream of the rest, till the 
pony phaeton in all its humble simplicity started 
down the hill toward Carleton Cottage, with two 
hearts that beat as one. 

As they walked slowly across the lovely lawn, as 
in those days which memory could best recall, Osgood 
Carleton, to his unspeakable surprise, and to com- 
plete his cup of happiness, saw, unless his eyes de- 
ceived him, his old friend Guy Underwood, now a 
leading physician in a great Western city, sitting 
very close to Maime upon the distant veranda. 

Ardavan could have told him who it was who found 


314 


THE ONLY ONE. 


Guy Underwood, and lifted his heart out of the dust 
with the story of Maime’s heroic sacrifice, and who it 
was who had brought Guy Underwood again to Carle- 
ton Cottage to find in her true heart the one, the only 
one, in spite of all the years and. all their vicissitudes. 
But Ardavan was bound in thoughts too delightful to 
be disturbed. 

It may not be the lot of every one to love many 
and still love one ; but if with care and honesty we 
love as wisely as we love well, we shall find, not many, 
but all the world, — the passionof the East, the power 
of the West, the beauty of the Orient, the brilliancy 
of the Occident, truth, liberty, love ! Olympia, 
Indra, Heaven ! all ! in the one, the only one, we 
love. 


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